REPRESENTATIVE  MEN. 


PLATO. 


Representative 
Men 


h-M-CALDWELL 
COMPANY 
NEV/ORK 


Annex 


rt-i 
iioo 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  Uses  of  Great  Men. 


II.  Plato ;  or,  the  Philosopher 39 

Plato ;  New  Readings •  •  77 

III.  Swedenborg ;  or,  the  Mystic 89 

IV.  Montaigne ;  or,  the  Skeptic *39 

Y.  Shakspeare ;  or  the  Poet 17$ 

YI.  Napoleon  ;  or,  the  Man  of  the  Wor'd 205 

VH.  Goethe }  or,  the  Writer 239 


USES  OF  GREAT  MEN. 


I. 

USES  OF  GREAT  MEN. 


IT  is  natural  to  believe  in  great  men.  If 
the  companions  of  our  childhood  should  turn 
out  to  be  heroes,  and  their  condition  regal,  it 
would  not  surprise  us.  All  mythology  opens 
with  demigods,  and  the  circumstance  is  high 
and  poetic ;  that  is,  their  genius  is  paramount. 
In  the  legends  of  the  Gautama,  the  first  men 
ate  the  earth,  and  found  it  deliciously  sweet. 

Nature  seems  to  exist  for  the  excellent. 
The  world  is  upheld  by  the  veracity  of  good 
men  :  they  make  the  earth  wholesome.  They 
who  lived  with  them  found  life  glad  and  nu 
tritious.  Life  is  sweet  and  tolerable  only  in 
our  belief  in  such  society ;  and  actually,  or 
ideally,  we  manage  to  live  with  superiors. 
We  call  our  children  and  our  lands  by  their 
names.  Their  names  are  wrought  into  the 
verbs  of  language,  their  works  and  effigies  are 
in  our  houses,  and  every  circumstance  of  the 
day  recalls  an  anecdote  of  them. 

9 


io  IReprcsentative 


The  search  after  the  great  is  the  dream  of 
youth,  and  the  most  serious  occupation  of 
manhood.  We  travel  into  foreign  parts  to 
find  his  works, — if  possible,  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  him.  But  we  are  put  off  with  fortune  in 
stead.  You  say,  the  English  are  practical ; 
the  Germans  are  hospitable  ;  in  Valencia,  the 
climate  is  delicious  ;  and  in  the  hills  of  Sacra 
mento,  there  is  gold  for  the  gathering.  Yes, 
but  I  do  not  travel  to  find  comfortable,  rich, 
and  hospitable  people,  or  clear  sky,  or  ingots 
that  cost  too  much.  But  if  there  were  any 
magnet  that  would  point  to  the  countries  and 
houses  where  are  the  persons  who  are  intrin 
sically  rich  and  powerful,  I  would  sell  all,  and 
buy  it,  and  put  myself  on  the  road  to-day. 

The  race  goes  with  us  on  their  credit.  The 
knowledge,  that  in  the  city  is  a  man  who  in 
vented  the  railroad,  raises  the  credit  of  all  the 
citizens.  But  enormous  populations,  if  they 
be  beggars,  are  disgusting,  like  moving  cheese, 
like  hills  of  ants,  or  of  fleas — the  more,  the 
worse. 

Our  religion  is  the  love  and  cherishing  of 
these  patrons.  The  gods  of  fable  are  the 
shining  moments  of  great  men.  We  run  all 
our  vessels  into  one  mould.  Our  colossal 
theologies  of  Judaism,  Christism,  Buddhism, 
Mahometism,  are  the  necessary  and  structural 
action  of  the  human  mind.  The  student  of 
history  is  like  a  man  going  into  a  warehouse 
to  buy  cloths  or  carpets.  He  fancies  he  has 


of  CJreat  flben  n 


a  new  article.  If  he  go  to  the  factory,  he 
shall  find  that  his  new  stuff  still  repeats  the 
scrolls  and  rosettes  which  are  found  on  the 
interior  walls  of  the  pyramids  of  Thebes. 
Our  theism  is  the  purification  of  the  human 
mind.  Man  can  paint,  or  make,  or  think 
nothing  but  man.  He  believes  that  the  great 
material  elements  had  their  origin  from  his 
thought.  And  our  philosophy  finds  one 
essence  collected  or  distributed. 

If  now  we  proceed  to  inquire  into  the  kinds 
of  service  we  derive  from  others,  let  us  be 
warned  of  the  danger  of  modern  studies,  and 
begin  low  enough.  We  must  not  contend 
against  love,  or  deny  the  substantial  existence 
of  other  people.  I  know  not  what  would 
happen  to  us.  We  have  social  strengths.  Our 
affection  towards  others  creates  a  sort  of 
vantage  or  purchase  which  nothing  will 
supply.  I  can  do  that  by  another  which  I 
cannot  do  alone.  I  can  say  to  you  what  I 
cannot  first  say  to  myself.  Other  men  are 
lenses  through  which  we  read  our  own  minds. 
Each  man  seeks  those  of  different  quality 
from  his  own,  and  such  as  are  good  of  their 
kind ;  that  is,  he  seeks  other  men,  and  the 
otherest.  The  stronger  the  nature,  the  more 
it  is  reactive.  Let  us  have  the  quality  pure. 
A  little  genius  let  us  leave  alone.  A  main 
difference  betwixt  men  is,  whether  they  attend 
their  own  affair  or  not.  Man  is  that  noble  en- 


12  IRcprcsentative 


dogenous  plant  which  grows,  like  the  palm, 
from  within,  outward.  His  own  affair,  though 
impossible  to  others,  he  can  open  with  celerity 
and  in  sport.  It  is  easy  to  sugar  to  be  sweet, 
and  to  nitre  to  be  salt.  We  take  a  great  deal 
of  pains  to  waylay  and  entrap  that  which  of 
itself  will  fall  into  our  hands.  I  count  him  a 
great  man  who  inhabits  a  higher  sphere  of 
thought,  into  which  other  men  rise  with  labor 
and  difficulty ;  he  has  but  to  open  his  eyes  to 
see  things  in  a  true  light,  and  in  large  rela 
tions  ;  whilst  they  must  make  painful  correc 
tions,  and  keep  a  vigilant  eye  on  many 
sources  of  error.  His  service  to  us  is  of  like 
sort.  It  costs  a  beautiful  person  no  exertion 
to  paint  her  image  on  our  eyes ;  yet  how 
splendid  is  that  benefit !  It  costs  no  more 
for  a  wise  soul  to  convey  his  quality  to  other 
men.  And  every  one  can  do  his  best  thing 
easiest.  " peu  de  moyens,  beancoup  d'effet" 
He  is  great  who  is  what  he  is  from  nature, 
and  who  never  reminds  us  of  others. 

But  he  must  be  related  to  us,  and  our  life 
receive  from  him  some  promise  of  explanation. 
I  cannot  tell  what  I  would  know  ;  but  I  have 
observed  there  are  persons,  who,  in  their  char 
acter  and  actions,  answer  questions  which  I 
have  not  skill  to  put.  One  man  answers  some 
questions  which  none  of  his  contemporaries  put, 
and  is  isolated.  The  past  and  passing  relig 
ions  and  philosophies  answer  some  other 
question.  Certain  men  affect  us  as  rich 


Tllses  of  Great  /BSen  13 


possibilities,  but  helptess  to  themselves  and  to 
their  times, — the  sport,  perhaps,  of  some  in 
stinct  that  rules  in  the  air  ; — they  do  not  speak 
to  our  want.  But  the  great  are  near :  we  know 
them  at  sight.  They  satisfy  expectation,  and 
fall  into  place.  What  is  good  is  effective, 
generative ;  makes  for  itself  room,  food,  and 
allies.  A  sound  apple  produces  seed, — a 
hybrid  does  not.  Is  a  man  in  his  place,  he 
is  constructive,  fertile,  magnetic,  inundating 
armies  with  his  purpose,  which  is  thus  ex 
ecuted.  The  river  makes  its  own  shores,  and 
each  legitimate  idea  makes  its  own  channels 
and  welcome, — harvest  for  food,  institutions  for 
expression,  weapons  to  fight  with,  and  disciples 
to  explain  it.  The  true  artist  has  the  planet 
for  his  pedestal  ;  the  adventurer,  after  years 
of  strife,  has  nothing  broader  than  his  own 
shoes. 

Our  common  discourse  respects  two  kinds 
of  use  of  service  from  superior  men.  Direct 
giving  is  agreeable  to  the  early  belief  of  men ; 
direct  giving  of  material  or  metaphysical  aid, 
as  of  health,  eternal  youth,  fine  senses,  arts  of 
healing,  magical  power,  and  prophecy.  The 
boy  believes  there  is  a  teacher  who  can  sell  him 
wisdom.  Churches  believe  in  imputed  merit. 
But,  in  strictness,  we  are  not  much  cognizant 
of  direct  serving.  Man  is  endogenous,  and 
education  is  his  unfolding.  The  aid  we  have 
from  others  is  mechanical,  compared  with  the 
discoveries  of  nature  in  us.  What  is  thus 


14  "Representative  flben 


learned  is  delightful  in  the  doing,  and  the 
effect  remains.  Right  ethics  are  central,  and 
go  from  the  soul  outward.  Gift  is  contrary  to 
the  law  of  the  universe.  Serving  others  is 
serving  us.  I  must  absolve  me  to  myself. 
"  Mind  thy  affair,"  says  the  spirit : — "  coxcomb, 
would  you  meddle  with  the  skies,  or  with 
other  people  ? "  Indirect  service  is  left.  Men 
have  a  pictorial  or  representative  quality,  and 
serve  us  in  the  intellect.  Behmen  and  Sweden- 
borg  saw  that  things  were  representative. 
Men  are  also  representative  ;  first,  of  things, 
and  secondly,  of  ideas. 

"  As  plants  convert  the  minerals  into  food 
for  animals,  so  each  man  converts  some  raw 
material  in  nature  to  human  use.  The  invent 
ors  of  fire,  electricity,  magnetism,  iron ;  lead, 
glass,  linen,  silk,  cotton  ;  the  makers  of  tools 
the  inventor  of  decimal  notation  ;  the  geom 
eter;  the  engineer;  musician, — severally 
make  an  easy  way  for  all,  through  unknown 
and  impossible  confusions.  Each  man  is,  by 
secret  liking,  connected  with  some  district  of 
nature,  whose  agent  and  interpreter  he  is,  as 
Linnaeus,  of  plants  ;  Huber,  of  bees  ;  Fries,  of 
lichens  ;  Van  Mons,  of  pears  ;  Dalton  of  atomic 
forms  ;  Euclid,  of  lines  ;  Newton,  of  fluxions. 

A  man  is  a  centre  for  nature,  running  out 
threads  of  relation  through  every  thing,  fluid 
and  solid,  material  and  elemental.  The  earth 
rolls ;  every  clod  and  stone  comes  to  the 
meridian :  so  every  organ,  function,  acid, 


of  <Sreat  /nben  15 


crystal,  grain  of  dust,  has  its  relation  to  the 
brain.  It  waits  long,  but  its  turn  comes. 
Each  plant  has  its  parasite,  and  each  created 
thing  its  lover  and  poet.  Justice  has  already 
been  done  to  steam,  to  iron,  to  wood,  to  coal, 
to  loadstone,  to  iodine,  to  corn,  and  cotton  ;  but 
how  few  materials  are  yet  used  by  our  arts  ' 
The  mass  of  creatures  and  of  qualities  are  still 
hid  and  expectant.  It  would  seem  as  if  each 
waited,  like  the  enchanted  princess  in  fairy 
tales,  for  a  destined  human  deliverer.  Each 
must  be  disenchanted,  and  walk  forth  to  the 
day  in  human  shape.  In  the  history  of  dis 
covery,  the  ripe  and  latent  truth  seems  to  have 
fashioned  a  brain  for  itself.  A  magnet  must 
be  made  man,  in  some  Gilbert,  or  Swecleriborg, 
or  Oersted,  before  the  general  mind  can  come 
to  entertain  its  powers. 

If  we  limit  ourselves  to  the  first  advantages  ; 
— a  sober  grace  adheres  to  the  mineral  and  bo 
tanic  kingdoms,  which,  in  the  highest  moments, 
comes  up  as  the  charm  of  nature, — the  glitter  of 
the  spar,  the  sureness  of  affinity,  the  veracity 
of  angles.  Light  and  darkness,  heat  and  cold, 
hunger  and  food,  sweet  and  sour,  solid,  liquid, 
and  gas,  circle  us  round  in  a  wreath  of 
pleasures,  and,  by  their  agreeable  quarrel,  be 
guile  the  day  of  life.  The  eye  repeats  every 
day  the  finest  eulogy  on  things — "  He  saw 
that  they  were  good."  We  know  where  to  find 
them  :  and  these  performers  are  relished  all 
the  more,  after  a  little  experience  of  the 


16  "Representative  flfcen 


pretending  races.  We  are  entitled,  also,  to 
higher  advantages.  Something  is  wanting  to 
science,  until  it  has  been  humanized.  The 
table  of  logarithms  is  one  thing,  and  its  vital 
play,  in  botany,  music,  optics,  and  architecture, 
another.  There  are  advancements  to  numbers, 
anatomy,  architecture,  astronomy,  little  sus 
pected  at  first,  when,  by  union  with  intellect 
and  will,  they  ascend  into  the  life,  and  re 
appear  in  conversation,  character  and  politics. 
But  this  comes  later.  We  speak  now  only 
of  our  acquaintance  with  them  in  their  own 
sphere,  and  the  way  in  which  they  seem  to  fas 
cinate  and  draw  to  them  some  genius  who  oc 
cupies  himself  with  one  thing,  all  his  life  long. 
The  possibility  of  interpretation  lies  in  the 
identity  of  the  observer  with  the  observed. 
Each  material  thing  has  its  celestial  side  ;  has 
its  translation,  through  humanity,  into  the 
spiritual  and  necessary  sphere,  where  it  plays 
a  part  as  indestructible  as  any  other.  And  to 
these,  their  ends,  all  things  continually  ascend. 
The  gases  gather  to  the  solid  firmament : 
the  chemic  lump  arrives  at  the  plant,  and 
grows  ;  arrives  at  the  quadruped,  and  walks  ; 
arrives  at  the  man,  and  thinks.  But  also  the 
constituency  determines  the  vote  of  the  repre 
sentative.  He  is  not  only  representative,  but 
participant.  Like  can  only  be  known  by  like. 
The  reason  why  he  knows  about  them  is,  that  he 
is  of  them  ;  he  has  just  come  out  of  nature,  or 
from  being  a  part  of  that  thing.  Animated 


of  <5rcat  /ken  17 


chlorine  knows  of  chlorine,  and  incarnate  zinc, 
of  zinc.  Their  quality  makes  this  career  ;  and 
he  can  variously  publish  their  virtues,  because 
they  compose  him.  Man,  made  of  the  dust 
of  the  world,  does  not  forget  his  origin  ;  and 
all  that  is  yet  inanimate  will  one  day  speak 
and  reason.  Unpublished  nature  will  have  its 
whole  secret  told.  Shall  we  say  that  quartz 
mountains  will  pulverize  into  innumerable  Wer 
ners,  Von  Buchs,  and  Beaumonts ;  and  the 
laboratory  of  the  atmosphere  holds  in  solution 
I  know  not  what  Berzeliuses  and  Davys  ? 

Thus,  we  sit  by  the  fire,  and  take  hold  on 
the  poles  of  the  earth.  This  quasi  omnipres 
ence  supplies  the  imbecility  of  our  condition. 
In  one  of  those  celestial  days,  when  heaven 
and  earth  meet  and  adorn  each  other,  it  seems 
a  poverty  that  we  can  only  spend  it  once ;  we 
wish  for  a  thousand  heads,  a  thousand  bodies, 
that  we  might  celebrate  its  immense  beauty  in 
many  ways  and  places.  Is  this  fancy?  Well, 
in  good  faith,  we  are  multiplied  by  our  proxies. 
How  easily  we  adopt  their  labors  !  Every  ship 
that  comes  to  America  got  its  chart  from  Co 
lumbus.  Every  novel  is  debtor  to  Homer. 
Every  carpenter  who  shaves  with  a  foreplane 
borrows  the  genius  of  a  forgotten  inventor. 
Life  is  girt  all  around  with  a  zodiac  of  sciences, 
the  contributions  of  men  who  have  perished  to 
add  their  point  of  light  to  our  sky.  Engineer, 
broker,  jurist,  physician,  moralist,  theologian, 
and  every  man,  inasmuch  as  he  has  any  science. 
2 


iS 


is  a  definer  and  map-maker  of  the  latitudes 
and  longitudes  of  our  condition.  These  road- 
makers  on  every  hand  enrich  us.  We  must 
extend  the  area  of  life,  and  multiply  our  re 
lations.  We  are  as  much  gainers  by  finding  a 
new  property  in  the  old  earth,  as  by  acquiring 
a  new  planet. 

We  are  too  passive  in  the  reception  of  these 
material  or  semi-material  aids.  We  must  not 
be  sacks  and  stomachs.  To  ascend  one  step, 
— we  are  better  served  through  our  sympathy. 
Activity  is  contagious.  Looking  where  others 
look,  and  conversing  with  the  same  things,  we 
catch  the  charm  which  lured  them.  Napoleon 
said,  "  you  must  not  fight  too  often  with  one 
enemy,  or  you  will  teach  him  all  your  art  of 
war."  Talk  much  with  any  man  of  vigorous 
mind,  and  we  acquire  very  fast  the  habit  of 
looking  at  things  in  the  same  light,  and,  on 
each  occurrence,  we  anticipate  his  thought. 

Men  are  helpful  through  the  intellect  and 
the  affections.  Other  help,  I  find  a  false  ap 
pearance.  If  you  affect  to  give  me  bread  and 
fire,  I  perceive  that  I  pay  for  it  the  full  price, 
and  at  last  it  leaves  me  as  it  found  me,  neither 
better  nor  worse  :  but  all  mental  and  moral 
force  is  a  positive  good.  It  goes  out  from  you 
whether  you  will  or  not,  and  profits  me  whom 
you  never  thought  of.  I  cannot  even  hear  of 
personal  vigor  of  any  kind,  great  power  of  per 
formance,  without  fresh  resolution.  We  are 
emulous  of  all  that  man  can  do.  Cecil's  saying 


"Clses  of  <5reat  /Ren  19 


of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  "  I  know  that  he  can 
toil  terribly/'  is  an  electric  touch.  So  are  Clar 
endon's  portraits, — of  Hampden  ;  "who  was 
of  an  industry  and  vigilance  not  to  be  tired 
out  or  wearied  by  the  most  laborious,  and  of 
parts  not  to  be  imposed  on  by  the  most  subtle 
and  sharp,  and  of  a  personal  courage  equal  to 
his  best  parts  " — of  Falkland  ;  "  who  was  so 
severe  an  adorer  of  truth,  that  he  could  as 
easily  have  given  himself  leave  to  steal,  as  to 
dissemble."  We  cannot  read  Plutarch,  with 
out  a  tingling  of  the  blood  ;  and  I  accept  the 
saying  of  the  Chinese  Mencius  :  "  As  age  is  the 
instructor  of  a  hundred  ages.  When  the 
manners  of  Loo  are  heard  of,  the  stupid  be 
come  intelligent,  and  the  wavering,  deter 
mined." 

This  is  the  moral  of  biography ;  yet  it  is 
hard  for  departed  men  to  touch  the  quick  like 
our  own  companions,  whose  names  may  not 
last  as  long.  What  is  he  whom  I  never  think 
of  ?  whilst  in  every  solitude  are  those  who  suc 
cor  our  genius,  and  stimulate  us  in  wonderful 
manners.  There  is  a  power  in  love  to  divine 
another's  destiny  better  than  that  other  can, 
and  by  heroic  encouragements,  hold  him  to  his 
task.  What  has  friendship  so  signaled  as  its 
sublime  attraction  to  whatever  virtue  is  in  us  ? 
We  will  never  more  think  cheaply  of  ourselves, 
or  of  life.  We  are  piqued  to  some  purpose, 
and  the  industry  of  the  diggers  on  the  rail 
road  will  not  again  shame  us, 


so  IReprescntative 


Under  this  head,  too,  falls  that  homage,  very 
pure,  as  I  think,  which  all  ranks  pay  to  the 
hero  of  the  day,  from  Coriolanus  and 
Gracchus,  down  to  Pitt,  Lafayette,  Wellington, 
Webster,  Lamartine.  Hear  the  shouts  in  the 
street !  The  people  cannot  see  him  enough. 
They  delight  in  a  man.  Here  is  a  head  and  a 
trunk  !  What  a  front !  What  eyes  !  Atlan- 
tean  shoulders,  and  the  whole  carriage  heroic, 
with  equal  inward  force  to  guide  the  great 
machine  !  This  pleasure  of  full  expression  to 
that  which,  in  their  private  experience,  is 
usually  cramped  and  obstructed,  runs,  also, 
much  higher,  and  is  the  secret  of  the  reader's 
joy  in  literary  genius.  Nothing  is  kept  back. 
There  is  fire  enough  to  fuse  the  mountain  of 
ore.  Shakspeare's  principal  merit  may  be 
conveyed,  in  saying  that  he,  of  all  men,  best 
understands  the  English  language,  and  can 
say  what  he  will.  Yet  these  unchoked  chan 
nels  and  floodgates  of  expression  are  only 
health  or  fortunate  constitution.  Shakspeare's 
name  suggests  other  and  purely  intellectual 
benefits. 

Senates  and  sovereigns  have  no  compliment, 
with  their  medals,  swords,  and  armorial  coats, 
like  the  addressing  to  a  human  being  thoughts 
out  of  a  certain  height,  and  presupposing  his 
intelligence.  This  honor,  which  is  possible  in 
personal  intercourse  scarcely  twice  in  a  life 
time,  genius  perpetually  pays ;  contented,  if 
now  and  then,  in  a  century,  the  proffer  is  ao 


"(Uses  or  ©rear  dfcen  21 


cepted.  The  indicators  of  the  values  of  mat 
ter  are  degraded  to  a  sort  of  cooks  and  con 
fectioners,  on  the  appearance  of  the  indicators 
of  ideas.  Genius  is  the  naturalist  or  geogra 
pher  of  the  supersensible  regions,  and  draws 
on  their  map ;  and,  by  acquainting  us  with 
new  fields  of  activity,  cools  our  affection  for 
the  old.  These  are  at  once  accepted  as  the 
reality,  of  which  the  world  we  have  conversed 
with  is  the  show. 

We  go  to  the  gymnasium  and  the  swimming- 
school  to  see  the  power  and  beauty  of  the 
body  ;  there  is  the  like  pleasure,  and  a  higher 
benefit,  from  witnessing  intellectual  feats  of 
all  kinds  ;  as,  feats  of  memory,  of  mathemat 
ical  combination,  great  power  of  abstraction, 
the  transmutings  of  the  imagina'tion,  even  ver 
satility,  and  concentration,  as  these  acts  ex 
pose  the  invisible  organs  and  members  of  the 
mind,  which  respond,  member  for  member,  to 
the  parts  of  the  body.  For,  we  thus  enter  a 
new  gymnasium,  and  learn  to  choose  men  by 
their  truest  marks,  taught,  with  Plato,  "  to 
choose  those  who  can,  without  aid  from  the 
eyes,  or  any  other  sense,  proceed  to  truth  and 
to  being."  Foremost  among  these  activities, 
are  the  summersaults,  spells,  and  resurrections, 
wrought  by  the  imagination.  When  this 
wakes,  a  man  seems  to  multiply  ten  times  or  a 
thousand  times  his  force.  It  opens  the  deli 
cious  sense  of  indeterminate  size,  and  inspires 
an  audacious  mental  habit.  We  are  as  elastic 


22  "Representative  jflfcen 


as  the  gas  of  gunpowder,  and  a  sentence  in  a 
book,  or  a  word  dropped  in  conversation,  sets 
free  our  fancy,  and  instantly  our  heads  are 
bathed  with  galaxies,  and  our  feet  tread  the 
floor  of  the  Pit.  And  this  benefit  is  real,  be 
cause  we  are  entitled  to  these  enlargements, 
and,  once  having  passed  the  bounds,  shall 
never  again  be  quite  the  miserable  pedants 
we  were. 

The  high  functions  of  the  intellect  are  so 
allied,  that  some  imaginative  power  usually 
appears  in  all  eminent  minds,  even  in  arith 
meticians  of  the  first  class,  but  especially  in 
meditative  men  of  an  intuitive  habit  of  thought. 
This  class  serve  us,  so  that  they  have  the 
perception  of  identity  and  the  perception  of 
reaction.  The  eyes  of  Plato,  Shakspeare, 
Swedenborg,  Goethe,  never  shut  on  either  of 
these  laws.  The  perception  of  these  laws  is 
a  kind  of  metre  of  the  mind.  Little  minds 
are  little,  through  failure  to  see  them. 

Even  these  feasts  have  their  surfeit.  Our 
delight  in  reason  degenerates  into  idolatry  of 
the  herald.  Especially  when  a  mind  of  power 
ful  method  has  instructed  men,  we  find  the 
examples  of  oppression.  The  dominion  of 
Aristotle,  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy,  the  credit 
of  Luther,  of  Bacon,  of  Locke, — in  religion 
the  history  of  hierarchies,  of  saints,  and  the 
sects  which  have  taken  the  name  of  each 
founder,  are  in  point.  Alas  !  every  man  is 
such  a  victim.  The  imbecility  of  men  is 


tlscs  of  <3teat  flben  23 


always  inviting  the  impudence  of  power.  It 
is  the  delight  of  vulgar  talent  to  dazzle  and  to 
bind  the  beholder.  But  true  genius  seeks  to 
defend  us  from  itself.  True  genius  will  not  im 
poverish,  but  will  liberate,  and  add  new  senses. 
If  a  wise  man  should  appear  in  our  village, 
he  would  create,  in  those  who  conversed  with 
him,  a  new  consciousnesss  of  wealth,  by  open 
ing  their  eyes  to  unobserved  advantages ; 
he  would  establish  a  sense  of  immovable 
equality,  calm  us  with  assurances  that  we 
could  not  be  cheated  ;  as  every  one  would  dis 
cern  the  checks  and  guaranties  of  condition. 
The  rich  would  see  their  mistakes  and  poverty, 
the  poor  their  escapes  and  their  resources. 

But  nature  brings  all  this  about  in  due 
time.  Rotation  is  her  remedy.  The  soul  is 
impatient  of  masters,  and  eager  for  change. 
Housekeepers  say  of  a  domestic  who  has  been 
valuable,  "  She  had  lived  with  me  long  enough." 
We  are  tendencies,  or  rather,  symptoms,  and 
none  of  us  complete.  We  touch  and  go,  and 
sip  the  foam  of  many  lives.  Rotation  is  the 
law  of  nature.  When  nature  removes  a  great 
man.  people  explore  the  horizon  for  a  succes 
sor;  but  none  comes  and  none  will.  His 
class  is  extinguished  with  him.  In  some 
other  and  quite  different  field,  the  next  man 
will  appear  ;  not  Jefferson,  not  Franklin,  but 
now  a  great  salesman  ;  then  a  road-contractor ; 
then  a  student  of  fishes  ;  then  a  buffalo-hunt 
ing  explorer,  or  a  semi-savage  western  general. 


24  "Representative  flfcen 


Thus  we  make  a  stand  against  our  rougher 
masters  ;  but  against  the  best  there  is  a  finer 
remedy.  The  power  which  they  communicate 
is  not  theirs.  When  we  are  exalted  by  ideas, 
we  do  not  owe  this  to  Plato,  but  to  the  idea, 
to  which,  also,  Plato  was  debtor. 

I  must  not  forget  that  we  have  a  special 
debt  to  a  single  class.  Life  is  a  scale  of  de 
grees.  Between  rank  and  rank  of  our  great 
men  are  wide  intervals.  Mankind  have,  in  all 
ages,  attached  themselves  to  a  few  persons, 
who,  either  by  the  quality  of  that  idea  they 
embodied,  or  by  the  largeness  of  their  recep 
tion,  were  entitled  to  the  position  of  leaders 
and  law-givers.  These  teach  us  the  qualities 
of  primary  nature, — admit  us  to  the  constitution 
of  things.  We  swim,  day  by  day,  on  a  river 
of  delusions,  and  are  effectually  amused  with 
houses  and  towns  in  the  air,  of  which  the  men 
about  us  are  dupes.  But  life  is  a  sincerity. 
In  lucid  intervals  we  say,  "  Let  there  be  an 
entrance  opened  for  me  into  realities ;  I  have 
worn  the  fool's  cap  too  long."  We  will  know  the 
meaning  of  our  economies  and  politics.  Give 
us  the  cipher,  and,  if  persons  and  things  are 
scores  of  a  celestial  music,  let  us  read  off  the 
strains.  We  have  been  cheated  of  our  reason; 
yet  there  have  been  sane  men,  who  enjoyed  a 
"ich  and  related  existence.  What  they  know, 
they  know  for  us.  With  each  new  mind,  a 
new  secret  of  nature  transpires  ;  nor  can  the 
Bible  be  closed,  until  the  last  great  man  is 


TH0C0  of  <5reat  Men  25 


born.  These  men  correct  the  delirium  of  the 
animal  spirits,  make  us  considerate,  and  en 
gage  us  to  new  aims  and  powers.  The  vener 
ation  of  mankind  selects  these  for  the  highest 
place.  Witness  the  multitude  of  statues,  pict 
ures,  and  memorials  which  recall  their  genius 
in  every  city,  village,  house,  and  ship  : — 

"  Ever  their  phantoms  arise  before  us, 

Our  loftier  brothers,  but  one  in  blood ; 
At  bed  and  table  they  lord  it  o'er  us, 

With  looks  of  beauty,  and  words  of  good." 

How  to  illustrate  the  distinctive  benefit  of 
ideas,  the  service  rendered  by  those  who  in 
troduce  moral  truths  into  the  general  mind  ? — 
I  am  plagued,  in  all  my  living,  with  a  perpet 
ual  tariff  of  prices.  If  I  work  in  my  garden, 
and  prune  an  apple-tree,  I  am  well  enough 
entertained,  and  could  continue  indefinitely  in 
the  like  occupation.  But  it  comes  to  mind 
that  a  day  is  gone,  and  I  have  got  this  precious 
nothing  done.  I  go  to  Boston  or  New  York, 
and  run  up  and  down  on  my  affairs  :  they  are 
sped,  but  so  is  the  day.  I  am  vexed  by  the 
recollection  of  this  price  I  have  paid  for  a 
trifling  advantage.  I  remember  the  peau 
d'  ane,  on  which  whoso  sat  should  have  his  de 
sire,  but  a  piece  of  the  skin  was  gone  for 
every  wish.  I  go  to  a  convention  of  philan 
thropists.  Do  what  I  can,  I  cannot  keep  my 
eyes  off  the  clock.  But  if  there  should  appear 
in  the  company  some  gentle  soul  who  knows 


"Representative 


little  of  persons  or  parties,  of  Carolina  or  Cuba, 
but  who  announces  a  law  that  disposes  these 
particulars,  and  so  certifies  me  of  the  equity 
which  checkmates  every  false  player,  bankrupts 
every  self-seeker,  and  apprises  me  of  my  in 
dependence  on  any  conditions  of  country,  or 
•time,  or  human  body,  that  man  liberates  me ; 
I  forget  the  clock.  I  pass  out  of  the  sore  re 
lation  to  persons.  I  am  healed  of  my  hurts. 
I  am  made  immortal  by  apprehending-  my 
possession  of  incorruptible  goods.  Here  is 
great  competition  of  rich  and  poor.  We  live 
in  a  market,  where  is  only  so  much  wheat,  or 
wool,  or  land  ;  and  if  I  have  so  much  more, 
every  other  must  have  so  much  less.  I  seem 
to  have  no  good,  without  breach  of  good  man 
ners.  Nobody  is  glad  in  the  gladness  of 
another,  and  our  system  is  one  of  war,  of  an 
injurious  superiority.  Every  child  of  the 
Saxon  race  is  educated  to  wish  to  be  first.  It 
is  ,ur  system  ;  and  a  man  comes  to  measure 
his  greatness  by  the  regrets,  envies  and  hatreds 
of  his  competitors.  But  in  these  new  fields 
there  is  room  :  here  are  no  self-esteems,  no 
exclusions. 

I  admire  great  men  of  all  classes,  those  who 
stand  for  facts,  and  for  thoughts  ;  I  like  rough 
and  smooth,  "  Scourges  of  God,"  and  "  Dar 
lings  of  the  human  race."  I  like  the  first 
Caesar  ;  and  Charles  V.,  of  Spain  ;  and  Charles 
XII. ,  of  Sweden  ;  Richard  Plantagenet ;  and 
Bonaparte,  in  France.  I  applaud  a  sufficient 


TUses  of  <3reat  flBeit  27 


man,  an  officer  equal  to  his  office ;  captains, 
ministers,  senators.  I  like  a  master  standing 
firm  on  legs  of  iron,  well-born,  rich,  handsome, 
eloquent,  loaded  with  advantages,  drawing  all 
men  by  fascination  into  tributaries  and  sup 
porters  of  his  power.  Sword  and  staff,  or 
talents  sword-like  or  staff-like,  carry  on  the 
work  of  the  world.  But  I  find  him  greater, 
when  he  can  abolish  himself,  and  all  heroes, 
by  letting  in  this  element  of  reason,  irrespect 
ive  of  persons  ;  this  subtilizer,  and  irresistible 
upward  force,  into  our  thought,  destroying 
individualism  ;  the  power  so  great,  that  the 
potentate  is  nothing.  Then  he  is  a  monarch, 
who  gives  a  constitution  to  his  people  ;  a  pon 
tiff,  who  preaches  the  equality  of  souls,  and 
releases  his  servants  from  their  barbarous 
homages ;  an  emperor,  who  can  spare  his 
empire. 

But  I  intended  to  specify,  with  a  little 
minuteness,  two  or  three  points  of  service. 
Nature  never  spares  the  opium  or  nepenthe , 
but  wherever  she  mars  her  creature  with  some 
deformity  or  defect,  lays  her  poppies  plenti 
fully  on  the  bruise,  and  the  sufferer  goes 
joyfully  through  life,  ignorant  of  the  ruin,  and 
incapable  of  seeing  it,  though  all  the  world 
point  their  finger  at  it  every  day.  The  worth 
less  and  offensive  members  of  society,  whose 
existence  is  a  social  pest,  invariably  think 
themselves  the  most  ill-used  people  alive,  and 
never  get  over  their  astonishment  at  the 


«8  "Representative  /fcen 

ingratitude  and  selfishness  of  their  contempo* 
raries.  Our  globe  discovers  its  hidden  virtues, 
not  only  in  heroes  and  archangels,  but  in 
gossips  and  nurses.  Is  it  not  a  rare  contriv 
ance  that  lodged  the  due  inertia  in  every 
creature,  the  conserving,  resisting  energy,  the 
anger  at  being  waked  or  changed  ?  Altogether 
independent  of  the  intellectual  force  in  each, 
is  the  pride  of  opinion,  the  security  that  we 
are  right.  Not  the  feeblest  grandame,  not  a 
mowing  idiot,  but  uses  what  spark  of  percep 
tion  and  faculty  is  left,  to  chuckle  and  triumph 
in  his  or  her  opinion  over  the  absurdities  of 
all  the  rest.  Difference  from  me  is  the  meas 
ure  of  absurdity.  Not  one  has  a  misgiving 
of  being  wrong.  Was  it  not  a  bright  thought 
that  made  things  cohere  with  this  bitumen, 
fastest  of  cements  ?  But,  in  the  midst  of  this 
chuckle  of  self-gratulation,  some  figure  goes 
by,  which  Thersites  too  can  love  and  admire. 
This  is  he  that  should  marshal  us  the  way  we 
were  going.  There  is  no  end  to  his  aid. 
Without  Plato,  we  should  almost  lose  our 
faith  in  the  possibility  of  a  reasonable  book. 
We  seem  to  want  but  one,  but  we  want  one. 
We  love  to  associate  with  heroic  persons, 
since  our  receptivity  is  unlimited ;  and,  with 
the  great,  our  thoughts  and  manners  easily 
become  great.  We  are  all  wise  in  capacity, 
though  so  few  in  energy.  There  needs  but 
one  wise  man  in  a  company,  and  all  are  wise, 
so  rapid  is  the  contagion. 


TUses  of  (Sreat  fben  29 


Great  men  are  thus  a  collyrium  to  clear  our 
eyes  from  egotism,  and  enable  us  to  see  other 
people  and  their  works.  But  there  are  vices 
and  follies  incident  to  whole  populations  and 
ages.  Men  resemble  their  contemporaries, 
even  more  than  their  progenitors.  It  is 
observed  in  old  couples,  or  in  persons  who 
have  been  housemates  for  a  course  of  years, 
that  they  grow  alike  ;  and,  if  they  should  live 
long  enough,  we  should  not  be  able  to  know 
them  apart.  Nature  abhors  these  complais 
ances,  which  threaten  to  melt  the  world  into 
a  lump,  and  hastens  to  break  up  such  maudlin 
agglutinations.  The  like  assimilation  goes  on 
between  men  of  one  town,  of  one  sect,  of  one 
political  party  ;  and  the  ideas  of  the  time  are 
in  the  air,  and  infect  all  who  breathe  it. 
Viewed  from  any  high  point,  the  city  of  New 
York,  yonder  city  of  London,  the  western 
civilization,  would  seem  a  bundle  of  insanities. 
We  keep  each  other  in  countenance,  and  ex 
asperate  by  emulation  the  frenzy  of  the  time. 
The  shield  against  the  stingings  of  conscience, 
is  the  universal  practice,  or  our  contempora 
ries.  Again ;  it  is  very  easy  to  be  as  wise  and 
good  as  your  companions.  We  learn  of  our 
contemporaries  what  they  know,  without  effort, 
and  almost  through  the  pores  of  the  skin, 
We  catch  it  by  sympathy,  or,  as  a  wife  arrives 
at  the  intellectual  and  moral  elevations  of 
her  husband.  But  we  stop  where  they  stop. 
Very  hardly  can  we  take  another  step.  The 


30  'Representative  /JRen 

great,  or  such  as  hold  of  nature,  and  transcend 
fashions,  by  their  fidelity  to  universal  ideas, 
are  saviors  from  these  federal  errors,  and 
defend  us  from  our  contemporaries.  They 
are  the  exceptions  which  we  wint,  where  all 
grows  alike.  A  foreign  greatness  is  the  an 
tidote  for  cabalism. 

Thus  we  feed  on  genius,  and  refresh  our 
selves  from  too  much  conversation  with  our 
mates,  and  exult  in  the  depth  of  nature  in 
that  direction  in  which  he  leads  us.  What 
indemnification  is  one  great  man  for  popula 
tions  of  pigmies  !  Every  mother  wishes  one 
son  a  genius,  though  all  the  rest  should  be 
mediocre.  But  a  new  danger  appears  in  the 
excess  of  influence  of  the  great  man.  His 
attractions  warp  us  from  our  place.  We  have 
become  underlings  and  intellectual  suicides. 
Ah !  yonder  in  the  horizon  is  our  help  : — 
other  great  men,  new  qualities,  counterweights 
and  checks  on  each  other.  We  cloy  of  the 
honey  of  each  peculiar  greatness.  Every 
hero  becomes  a  bore  at  last.  Perhaps  Voltaire 
was  not  bad-hearted,  yet  he  said  of  the  good 
Jesus,  even,  "  I  pray  you,  let  me  never  hear 
that  man's  name  again."  They  cry  up  the 
virtues  of  George  Washington, —  "  Damn 
George  Washington  !  "  is  the  poor  Jacobin's 
whole  speech  and  confutation.  But  it  is 
human  nature's  indispensable  defence.  The 
centripetence  augments  the  centrifugence. 
We  balance  one  man  with  his  opposite,  and 


Ta«cs  of  <3reat  flfcen  31 


the  health  of  the  state  depends  on  the  see 
saw 

There  is,  however,  a  speedy  limit  to  the  use 
of  heroes.  Every  genius  is  defended  from  ap 
proach  by  quantities  of  availableness.  They 
are  very  attractive,  and  seem  at  a  distance  our 
own  :  but  we  are  hindered  on  all  sides  from 
approach.  The  more  we  are  drawn,  the  more 
we  are  repelled.  There  is  something  not  solid 
in  the  good  that  is  done  for  us.  The  best  dis 
covery  the  discoverer  makes  for  himself.  It 
has  something  unreal  for  his  companion,  until 
he  too  has  substantiated  it.  It  seems  as  if  the 
Deity  dressed  each  soul  which  he  sends  into 
nature  in  certain  virtues  and  powers  not  com 
municable  to  other  men,  and,  sending  it  to 
perform  one  more  turn  through  the  circle  of 
beings,  wrote  "  Not  transferable"  and  "  Good 
for  this  trip  only"  on  these  garments  of  the 
soul.  There  is  somewhat  deceptive  about  the 
intercourse  of  minds.  The  boundaries  are 
invisible,  but  they  are  never  crossed.  There 
is  such  good  will  to  impart,  and  such  good  will 
to  receive,  that  each  threatens  to  become  the 
other ;  but  the  law  of  individuality  collects  its 
secret  strength  :  you  are  you,  and  I  am  I,  and 
so  we  remain. 

For  Nature  wishes  every  thing  to  remain 
itself ;  and,  whilst  every  individual  strives  to 
grow  and  exclude,  and  to  exclude  and  grow,  to 
the  extremities  of  the  universe,  and  to  impose 
the  law  of  its  being  on  every  other  creature, 


32  'Representative  /Ren 


Nature  steadily  aims  to  protect  each  against 
every  other.  Each  is  self-defended.  Nothing 
is  more  marked  than  the  power  by  which  in 
dividuals  are  guarded  from  individuals,  in  a 
world  where  every  benefactor  becomes  so 
easily  a  malefactor,  only  by  continuation  of 
his  activity  into  places  where  it  is  not  due  ; 
where  children  seem  so  much  at  the  mercy  of 
their  foolish  parents,  and  where  almost  all 
men  arc  too  social  and  interfering.  We 
rightly  speak  of  the  guardian  angels  of 
children.  How  superior  in  their  security  from 
infusions  of  evil  persons,  from  vulgarity  and 
second  thought !  They  shed  their  own  abun 
dant  beauty  on  the  objects  they  behold  There 
fore,  they  are  not  at  the  mercy  of  such  poor 
educators  as  we  adults.  If  we  huff  and  chide 
them,  they  soon  come  not  to  mind  it,  and  get 
a  self-reliance ;  and  if  we  indulge  them  to 
folly,  they  learn  the  limitation  elsewhere. 

We  need  r.o*-  fear  excessive  influence.  A 
more  generous  trust  is  permitted.  Serve  the 
great.  Stick  at  no  humiliation.  Grudge  no 
office  thou  canst  render.  Be  the  limb  of  their 
body,  the  breath  of  their  mouth.  Compromise 
thy  egotism.  Who  cares  for  that,  so  thou  gain 
aught  wider  and  nobler?  Never  mind  the 
taunt  of  Boswellism  :  the  devotion  may  easily 
be  greater  than  the  wretched  pride  which  is 
guarding  its  own  skirts.  Be  another:  not  thy 
self,  but  a  Platonist ;  not  a  soul,  but  a  Chris 
tian  ;  not  a  naturalist,  but  a  Cartesian ;  not  d 


"dees  of  (Breat  tf&ett  33 


poet,  but  a  Shaksperian.  In  vain,  the  wheels 
of  tendency  will  not  stop,  nor  will  all  the  forces 
of  inertia,  fear,  or  of  love  itself,  hold  thee 
there.  On,  and  forever  onward  !  The  micro 
scope  observes  a  monad  or  wheel-insect  among 
the  infusories  circulating  in  water.  Presently, 
a  dot  appears  on  the  animal,  which  enlarges  to 
a  slit,  and  it  becomes  two  perfect  animals. 
The  ever-proceeding  detachment  appears  not 
less  in  all  thought,  and  in  society.  Children 
think  they  cannot  live  without  their  parents. 
But,  long  before  they  are  aware  of  it,  the  black 
dot  has  appeared,  and  the  detachment  taken 
place.  Any  accident  will  now  reveal  to  them 
their  independence. 

But  great  men: — the  word  is  injurious.  Is 
there  caste  ?  is  there  fate  ?  What  becomes  of 
the  promise  to  virtue  ?  The  thoughtful  youth 
laments  the  superfoetation  of  nature.  "  Gen 
erous  and  handsome,"  he  says,  "  is  your  hero ; 
but  look  at  yonder  poor  Paddy,  whose  country 
is  his  wheelbarrow ;  look  at  his  whole  nation 
of  Paddies."  Why  are  the  masses,  from  the 
dawn  of  history  down,  food  for  knives  and 
powder  ?  The  idea  dignifies  a  few  leaders, 
who  have  sentiment,  opinion,  love,  self-devo 
tion  ;  and  they  make  war  and  death  sacred  ; — • 
but  what  for  the  wretches  whom  they  hire  and 
kill  ?  The  cheapness  of  man  is  every  day's 
tragedy.  It  is  as  real  a  loss  that  others  should 
be  low,  as  that  we  should  be  low  ;  for  we  must 
have  society. 
3 


34  "Representative  flben 


Is  it  a  reply  to  these  suggestions,  to  say, 
society  is  a  Pestalozzian  school ;  all  are 
teachers  and  pupils  in  turn.  We  are  equally 
served  by  receiving  and  by  imparting.  Men 
who  know  the  same  things,  are  not  long  the 
best  company  for  each  other.  But  bring  to 
<?ach  an  intelligent  person  of  another  experi 
ence,  and  it  is  as  if  you  let  off  water  from  a 
lake,  by  cutting  a  lower  basin.  It  seems  a 
mechanical  advantage,  and  great  benefit  it  is 
to  each  speaker,  as  he  can  now  paint  out  his 
thought  to  himself.  We  pass  very  fast,  in  our 
personal  moods,  from  dignity  to  dependence. 
And  if  any  appear  never  to  assume  the  chair, 
but  always  to  stand  and  serve,  it  is  because 
we  do  not  see  the  company  in  a  sufficiently 
long  period  for  the  whole  rotation  of  parts  to 
come  about.  As  to  what  we  call  the  masses, 
and  common  men ; — there  are  no  common 
men.  All  men  are  at  last  of  a  size  ;  and  true 
art  is  only  possible,  on  the  conviction  that 
every  talent  has  its  apotheosis  somewhere. 
Fair  play,  and  an  open  field,  and  freshest 
laurels  to  all  who  have  won  them  !  But  heaven 
reserves  an  equal  scope  for  every  creature. 
Each  is  uneasy  until  he  has  produced  his  pri 
vate  ray  unto  the  concave  sphere,  and  beheld 
his  talent  also  in  its  last  nobility  and  exalta 
tion. 

The  heroes  of  the  hour  are  relatively  great : 
of  a  faster  growth  ;  or  they  are  such,  in  whom, 
at  the  moment  of  success,  a  quality  is  ripe 


TUscs  of  Great  rtben  35 


which  is  then  in  request.  Other  days  will  de 
mand  other  qualities.  Some  rays  escape  the 
common  observer,  and  want  a  finely  adapted 
eye.  Ask  the  great  man  if  there  be  none 
greater.  His  companions  are  ;  and  not  the 
less  great,  but  the  more,  that  society  cannot 
see  them.  Nature  never  sends  a  great  man 
into  the  planet,  without  confiding  the  secret  to 
another  soul. 

One  gracious  fact  emerges  from  these  studies, 
— that  there  is  true  ascension  in  our  love. 
The  reputations  of  the  nineteenth  century  will 
one  day  be  quoted  to  prove  its  barbarism. 
The  genius  of  humanity  is  the  real  subject 
whose  biography  is  written  in  our  annals.  We 
must  infer  much,  and  supply  many  chasms  in 
the  record.  The  history  of  the  universe  is 
symptomatic,  and  life  is  mnemonical.  No 
man,  in  all  the  procession  of  famous  men,  is 
reason  or  illumination,  or  that  essence  we 
were  looking  for  ;  but  is  an  exhibition,  in  some 
quarter,  of  new  possibilities.  Could  we  one 
day  complete  the  immense  figure  which  these 
flagrant  points  compose  !  The  study  of  many 
individuals  leads  us  to  an  elemental  region 
wherein  the  individual  is  lost,  or  wherein  all 
touch  by  their  summits.  Thought  and  feel 
ing,  that  break  out  there,  cannot  be  im 
pounded  by  any  fence  of  personality.  This  is 
the  key  to  the  power  of  the  greatest  men, — 
their  spirit  diffuses  itself.  A  new  quality  of 
mind  travels  by  night  and  by  day,  in  concen- 


36  "Representative 


trie  circles  from  its  origin,  and  publishes  itself 
by  unknown  methods  :  the  union  of  all  minds 
appears  intimate  :  what  gets  admission  to  one. 
cannot  be  kept  out  of  any  other:  the  smallest 
acquisition  of  truth  or  of  energy,  in  any  quar 
ter,  is  so  much  good  to  the  commonwealth  of 
souls.  If  the  disparities  of  talent  and  position 
vanish,  when  the  individuals  are  seen  in  the 
duration  which  is  necessary  to  complete  the 
career  of  each  ;  even  more  swiftly  the  seeming 
injustice  disappears,  when  we  ascend  to  the 
central  identity  of  all  the  individuals,  and 
know  that  they  are  made  of  the  same  sub 
stance  which  ordaineth  and  doeth. 

The  genius  of  humanity  is  the  right  point  of 
view  of  history.  The  qualities  abide ;  the 
men  who  exhibit  them  have  now  more,  now 
less,  and  pass  away  ;  the  qualities  remain  on 
another  brow.  No  experience  is  more  fa 
miliar.  Once  you  saw  phoenixes :  they  are 
gone  ;  the  world  is  not  therefore  disenchanted. 
The  vessels  on  which  you  read  sacred  emblems 
turn  out  to  be  common  pottery ;  but  the  sense 
of  the  pictures  is  sacred,  and  you  may  still  read 
them  transferred  to  the  walls  of  the  world. 
For  a  time,  our  teachers  serve  us  personally,  as 
metres  or  milestones  of  progress.  Once  they 
were  angels  of  knowledge,  and  their  figures 
touched  the  sky.  Then  we  drew  near,  saw 
their  means,  culture,  and  limits ;  nnd  they 
yielded  their  place  to  other  geniuses.  Happy, 
if  a  few  names  remain  so  high,  that  we  have 


Tttses  of  (Breat  jtoen  37 


not  been  able  to  read  them  nearer,  and  age 
and  comparison  have  not  robbed  them  of  a 
ray.  But,  at  last,  we  shall  cease  to  look  in 
men  for  completeness,  and  shall  content  our 
selves  with  their  social  and  delegated  quality. 
All  that  respects  the  individual  is  temporary 
and  prospective,  like  the  individual  himself, 
who  is  ascending  out  of  his  limits,  into  a  catho 
lic  existence.  We  have  never  come  at  the  true 
and  best  benefit  of  any  genius,  so  long  as  we 
believe  him  an  original  force.  In  the  moment 
when  he  ceases  to  help  us  as  a  cause,  he  be 
gins  to  help  us  move  as  an  effect.  Then  he 
appears  as  an  exponent  of  a  vaster  mind  and 
will.  The  opaque  self  becomes  transparent 
with  the  light  of  the  First  Cause. 

Yet,  within  the  limits  of  human  education 
and  agency,  we  may  say,  great  men  exist  that 
there  may  be  greater  men.  The  destiny  of 
organized  nature  is  amelioration,  and  who 
can  tell  its  limits  ?  It  is  for  man  to  tame  the 
chaos  ;  on  every  side,  whilst  he  lives,  to  scat 
ter  the  seeds  of  science  and  of  song,  that  cli 
mate,  corn,  animals,  men,  may  be  milder,  and 
the  germs  of  love  and  benefit  may  be  multi 
plied. 


PLATO  ;  OR,  THE  PHILOSOPHER. 


n. 

Plato ;  or,  The  Philosopher. 


AMONG  books,  Plato  only  is  entitled  to 
Omar's  fanatical  compliment  to  the  Koran, 
when  he  said,  "  Burn  the  libraries  ;  for,  their 
value  is  in  this  book."  These  sentences  con 
tain  the  culture  of  nations  ;  these  are  the  cor 
ner-stone  of  schools ;  these  are  the  fountain- 
head  of  literatures.  A  discipline  it  is  in  logic, 
arithmetic,  taste,  symmetry,  poetry,  language, 
rhetoric,  ontology,  morals,  or  practical  wisdom. 
There  was  never  such  range  of  speculation. 
Out  of  Plato  come  all  things  that  are  still 
written  and  debated  among  men  of  thought. 
Great  havoc  makes  he  among  our  originalities. 
We  have  reached  the  mountain  from  which  all 
these  drift  bowlders  were  detached.  The  Bible 
of  the  learned  for  twenty-two  hundred  years, 
every  brisk  young  man,  who  says  in  succession 
fine  things  to  each  reluctant  generation, — 
Boethius,  Rabelais,  Erasmus,  Bruno,  Locke, 
Rousseau,  Alfieri,  Coleridge, — is  some  reader 
of  Plato,  translating  into  the  vernacular, 


42  "Representative  /rfcen 

wittily,  his  good  things.  Even  the  men  of 
grander  proportion  suffer  some  deduction  from 
the  misfortune  (shall  I  say  ?)  of  coming  after 
this  exhausting  generalizer.  St.  Augustine, 
Copernicus,  Newton,  Behmen,  S\vedenborg, 
Goethe,  are  likewise  his  debtors,  and  must  say 
after  him.  For  it  is  fair  to  credit  the  broadest 
generalizer  with  all  the  particulars  deducible 
from  his  thesis. 

Plato  is  philosophy,  and  philosophy,  Plato, 
— at  once  the  glory  and  the  shame  of  man 
kind,  since  neither  Saxon  nor  Roman  have 
availed  to  add  any  idea  to  his  categories.  No 
wife,  no  children  had  he,  and  the  thinkers  of 
all  civilized  nations  are  his  posterity,  and  are 
tinged  with  his  mind.  How  many  great  men 
Nature  is  incessantly  sending  up  out  of  night, 
to  be  his  men, — Platonists  !  the  Alexandrians, 
a  constellation  of  genius  ;  the  Elizabethans, 
not  less;  Sir  Thomas  More,  Henry  More,  John 
Hales,  John  Smith,  Lord  Bacon,  Jeremy  Tay 
lor,  Ralph  Cudworth,  Sydenham,  Thomas 
Taylor ;  Marcilius  Ficinus,  and  Picus  Miran- 
dola.  Calvinism  is  in  his  Phasdo  :  Christian 
ity  is  in  it.  Mahometanism  draws  all  its 
philosophy,  in  its  hand-book  of  morals,  the 
Akhlak-y-Jalaly,  from  him.  Mysticism  finds  in 
Plato  all  its  texts.  This  citizen  of  a  town  in 
Greece  is  no  villager  nor  patriot.  An  English 
man  reads  and  says,  "  how  English  !  "  a  Ger 
man — "  how  Teutonic  !  "  an  Italian-  — "  how 
Roman  and  how  Greek  ! "  As  they  say  that 


Dlato ;  or,  tfbe  pbitosopbet          43 


Helen  of  Argos  had  that  universal  beauty  that 
everybody  felt  related  to  her.  so  Plato  seems, 
to  a  reader  in  New  England,  an  American 
genius.  His  broad  humanity  transcends  all 
sectional  lines. 

This  range  of  Plato  instructs  us""  what  to 
think  of  the  vexed  question  concerning  his 
reputed  works, — what  are  genuine,  what 
spurious.  It  is  singular  that  wherever  we  find 
a  man  higher,  by  a  whole  head,  than  any  of 
his  contemporaries,  it  is  sure  to  come  into 
doubt,  what  are  his  real  works.  Thus,  Homer, 
Plato,  Raffaelle,  Shakspeare.  For  these  men 
magnetize  their  contemporaries,  so  that  their 
companions  can  do  for  them  what  they  can 
never  do  for  themselves ;  and  the  great  man 
does  thus  live  in  several  bodies  ;  and  write, 
or  paint,  or  act,  by  many  hands  ;  and  after 
some  time,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  what  is  the 
authentic  work  of  the  master,  and  what  is  only 
of  his  school. 

Plato,  too,  like  every  great  man,  consumed 
his  own  times.  What  is  a  great  man,  but  one 
of  great  affinities,  who  takes  up  into  himself 
all  arts,  sciences,  all  knowables,  as  his  food  ? 
He  can  spare  nothing ;  he  can  dispose  of 
everything.  What  is  not  good  for  virtue,  is 
good  for  knowledge.  Hence  his  contem 
poraries  tax  him  with  plagiarism.  But  the 
inventor  only  knows  how  to  borrow ;  and 
society  is  glad  to  forget  the  innumerable 
laborers  who  ministered  to  this  architect,  and 


44  TReprcs«ntativc 


reserves  all  its  gratitude  for  him.  When  we  are 
praising  Plato,  it  seems  we  are  praising  quota 
tions  from  Solon,  and  Sophron,  and  Philolaus. 
Be  it  so.  Every  book  is  a  quotation  ;  and 
every  house  is  a  quotation  out  of  all  forests, 
and  mindfe,  and  stone  quarries  :  and  every 
man  is  a  quotation  from  all  his  ancestors. 
And  this  grasping  inventor  puts  all  nations 
under  contribution. 

Plato  absorbed  the  learning  of  his  times, — 
Philolaus,  Timaeus,  Heraclitus,  Parmenides, 
and  what  else ;  then  his  master,  Socrates ; 
and  finding  himself  still  capable  of  a  larger 
synthesis, — beyond  all  example  then  or  since, 
— he  travelled  into  Italy,  to  gain  what  Pytha 
goras  had  for  him  ;  then  into  Egypt,  and  per 
haps  still  further  east,  to  import  the  other 
element,  which  Europe  wanted,  into  'the 
European  mind.  This  breadth  entitles  him  to 
stand  as  the  representative  of  philosophy. 
He  says,  in  the  Republic,  "  Such  a  genius  as 
philosophers  must  of  necessity  have,  is  wont 
but  seldom,  in  all  its  parts,  to  meet  in  one 
man ;  but  its  different  parts  generally  spring 
up  in  different  persons."  Every  man,  who 
would  do  anything  well,  must  come  to  it  from 
a  higher  ground.  A  philosopher  must  be 
more  than  a  philosopher.  Plato  is  clothed 
with  the  powers  of  a  poet,  stands  upon  the 
highest  place  of  the  poet,  and  (though  I 
doubt  he  wanted  the  decisive  gift  of  lyric 
expression)  mainly  is  not  a  poet,  because  he 


Plato ;  or,  Cbe  pbilosopbet          45 


chose  to  use  the  poetic  gift  to  an  ulterior 
purpose. 

Great  geniuses  have  the  shortest  biogra 
phies.  Their  cousins  can  tell  you  nothing 
about  them.  They  lived  in  their  writings, 
and  so  their  house  and  street  life  was  trivial 
and  commonplace.  If  you  would  know  their 
tastes  and  complexions,  the  most  admiring  of 
their  readers  most  resembles  them.  Plato, 
especially,  has  no  external  biography.  If  he 
had  lover,  wife,  or  children,  we  hear  nothing 
of  them.  He  ground  them  all  into  paint. 
As  a  good  chimney  burns  its  smoke,  so  a  phi 
losopher  converts  the  value  of  all  his  fortunes 
into  his  intellectual  performances. 

He  was  born  430  A.  C.,  about  the  time  of 
the  death  of  Pericles  ;  was  of  patrician  con 
nection  in  his  times  and  city  ;  and  is  said  to 
have  had  an  early  inclination  for  war ;  but  in 
his  twentieth  year,  meeting  with  Socrates,  was 
easily  dissuaded  from  this  pursuit,  and  re 
mained  for  ten  years  his  scholar,  until  the 
death  of  Socrates.  He  then  went  to  Megara  ; 
accepted  the  invitations  of  Dion  and  of  Diony« 
sius,  to  the  court  of  Sicily ;  and  went  thither 
three  times,  though  very  capriciously  treated. 
He  travelled  into  Italy ;  then  into  Egypt, 
where  he  stayed  a  long  time  ;  some  say  three, 
— some  say  thirteen  years.  It  is  said,  he 
went  farther,  into  Babylonia  :  this  is  uncertain. 
Returning  to  Athens,  he  gave  lessons,  in  the 
Academy,  to  those  whom  his  fame  drew 


46  "Representative  /Ben 


thither ;  and  died,  as  we  have  received  it,  in 
the  act  of  writing,  at  eighty-one  years. 

But  the  biography  of  Plato  is  interior.  We 
are  to  account  for  the  supreme  elevation  of 
this  man,  in  the  intellectual  history  of  our 
race, — how  it  happens  that,  in  proportion  to 
the  culture  of  men,  they  become  his  scholars  ; 
that,  as  our  Jewish  Bible  has  implanted  itself 
in  the  table-talk  and  household  life  of  every 
man  and  woman  in  the  European  and  Ameri 
can  nations,  so  the  writings  of  Plato  have  pre 
occupied  every  school  of  learning,  every  lover 
of  thought,  every  church,  every  poet, — making 
it  impossible  to  think,  on  certain  levels,  except 
through  him.  He  stands  between  the  truth 
and  every  man's  mind,  and  has  almost  im 
pressed  language,  and  the  primary  forms  of 
thought,  with  his  name  and  seal.  I  am  struck, 
in  reading  him,  with  the  extreme  modernness 
of  his  style  and  spirit.  Here  is  the  germ  of 
that  Europe  we  know  so  well,  in  its  long  his 
tory  of  arts  and  arms  :  here  are  all  its  traits, 
already  discernible  in  the  mind  of  Plato, — 
and  in  none  before  him.  It  has  spread  itself 
since  into  a  hundred  histories,  J}ut  has  added 
no  new  element.  This  perpetual  modernness 
is  the  measure  of  merit,  in  ever^  work  of  art; 
since  the  author  of  it  was  not  misled  by  any 
thing  short-lived  or  local,  but  abode  by  real 
and  abiding  traits.  How  Plato  came  thus  to 
be  Europe,  and  philosophy,  and  almost  liter 
ature,  is  the  problem  for  us  to  solve. 


Dlato ;  or,  ttbc  ftbttosopber          47 


This  could  not  have  happened,  without  a 
sound,  sincere,  and  catholic  man,  able  to 
honor,  at  the  same  time,  the  ideal,  or  laws  of 
the  mind,  and  fate,  or  the  order  of  nature. 
The  first  period  of  a  nation,  as  of  an  individ 
ual,  is  the  period  of  unconscious  strength. 
Children  cry,  scream  and  stamp  with  fury,  un 
able  to  express  their  desires.  As  soon  as 
they  can  speak  and  tell  their  want,  and  the 
reason  of  it,  they  become  gentle.  In  adult 
life,  whilst  the  perceptions  are  obtuse,  men 
and  women  talk  vehemently  and  superlatively, 
blunder  and  quarrel :  their  manners  are  full  of 
desperation ;  their  speech  is  full  of  oaths. 
As  soon  as,  with  culture,  things  have  cleared 
up  a  little,  and  they  see  them  no  longer  in 
lumps  and  masses,  but  accurately  distributed, 
they  desist  from  that  weak  vehemence,  and 
explain  their  meaning  in  detail.  If  the 
tongue  had  not  been  framed  for  articulation, 
man  would  still  be  a  beast  in  the  forest. 
The  same  weakness  and  want,  on  a  higher 
plane,  occurs  daily  in  the  education  of  ardent 
young  men  and  women.  "  Ah !  you  don't 
understand  me ;  I  have  never  met  with  any 
one  who  comprehends  me :  "  and  they  sigh 
and  weep,  write  verses,  and  walk  alone, — fault 
of  power  to  express  their  precise  meaning. 
In  a  month  or  two,  through  the  favor  of  their 
good  genius,  they  meet  some  one  so  related  as 
to  assist  their  volcanic  estate;  and,  good 
communication  being  once  established,  they 


*8  "Representative  /Ben ' 

are  thenceforward  good  citizens.  It  is  ever 
thus.  The  progress  is  to  accuracy,  to  skill,  to 
truth,  from  blind  force. 

There  is  a  moment,  in  the  history  of  every 
nation,  when,  proceeding  out  of  this  brute 
youth,  the  perceptive  powers  reach  their  ripe 
ness,  and  have  not  yet  become  microscopic  : 
so  that  man,  at  that  instant,  extends  across 
the  entire  scale ;  and,  with  his  feet  still 
planted  on  the  immense  forces  of  night,  con 
verses,  by  his  eyes  and  brain,  with  solar  and 
stellar  creation.  That  is  the  moment  of  adult 
health,  the  culmination  of  power. 

Such  is  the  history  of  Europe,  in  all  points ; 
and  such  in  philosophy.  Its  early  records,  al 
most  perished,  are  of  the  immigrations  from 
Asia,  bringing  with  them  the  dreams  of  bar 
barians  ;  a  confusion  of  crude  notions  of  mor 
als,  and  of  natural  philosophy,  gradually  sub 
siding,  through  the  partial  insight  of  single 
teachers. 

Before  Pericles,  came  the  Seven  Wise 
Masters  ;  and  we  have  the  beginnings  of  ge 
ometry,  metaphysics,  and  ethics  :  then  the  par- 
tialists, — deducing  the  origin  of  things  from 
flux  or  water,  or  from  air,  or  from  fire,  or  from 
mind.  All  mix  with  these  causes  mythologic 
pictures.  At  last,  comes  Plato,  the  distributor, 
who  needs  no  barbaric  paint,  or  tattoo,  or 
whooping ;  for  he  can  define.  He  leaves  with 
Asia  the  vast  and  superlative ;  he  is  the  ar 
rival  of  accuracy  and  intelligence.  "  He  shall 


IMato ;  or,  ttfce  ipbflosopber          49 


be  as  a  god  to  me,  who  can  rightly  divide  a»d 
define." 

This  defining  is  philosophy.  Philosophy  ie 
the  account  which  the  human  mind  gives  to  it 
self  of  the  constitution  of  the  world.  Two 
cardinal  facts  lie  forever  at  the  base  ;  the  one, 
and  the  two. — i.  Unity,  or  Identity  ;  and,  2. 
Variety.  We  unite  all  things,  by  perceiving 
the  law  which  pervades  them ;  by  perceiving 
the  superficial  differences,  and  the  profound 
resemblances.  But  every  mental  act, — this 
very  perception  of  identity  or  oneness,  recog 
nizes  the  difference  of  things.  Oneness  and 
otherness.  It  is  impossible  to  speak,  or  to 
think,  without  embracing  both. 

The  mind  is  urged  to  ask  for  one  cause  of 
many  effects  ;  then  for  the  cause  of  that ;  and 
again  the  cause,  diving  still  into  the  profound : 
self-assured  that  it  shall  arrive  at  an  absolute 
and  sufficient  one, — a  one  that  shall  be  all. 
"  In  the  midst  of  the  sun  is  the  light,  in  the 
midst  of  the  light  is  truth,  and  in  the  midst  of 
truth  is  the  imperishable  being,"  say  the  Vedas. 
All  philosophy,  of  east  and  west,  has  the  same 
centripetence.  Urged  by  an  opposite  neces 
sity,  the  mind  returns  from  the  one,  to  that 
which  is  not  one,  but  other  or  many ;  from 
cause  to  effect ;  and  affirms  the  necessary  ex 
istence  of  variety,  the  self-existence  of  both, 
as  each  is  involved  in  the  other.  These 
strictly-blended  elements  it  is  the  problem  of 
thought  to  separate,  and  to  reconcile.  Their 
4 


50  "Representative  /Bien 


existence  is  mutually  contradictory  and  exclu 
sive  ;  and  each  so  fast  slides  into  the  other, 
that  we  can  never  say  what  is  one,  and  what 
it  is  not.  The  Proteus  is  as  nimble  in  the 
highest  as  in  the  lowest  grounds,  when  we  con 
template  the  one,  the  true,  the  good, — as  in 
the  surfaces  and  extremities  of  matter. 

In  all  nations,  there  are  minds  which  incline 
to  dwell  in  the  conception  of  the  fundamental 
Unity.  The  raptures  of  prayer  and  ecstasy  of 
devotion  lose  all  being  in  one  Being.  This 
tendency  finds  its  highest  expression  in  the  re 
ligious  writings  of  the  East,  and  chiefly,  in  the 
Indian  Scriptures,  in  the  Vedas,  the  Bhagavat 
Geeta,  and  the  Vishnu  Purana.  Those  writings 
contain  little  else  than  this  idea,  and  they  rise 
to  pure  and  sublime  strains  in  celebrating  it. 

The  Same,  the  Same  :  friend  and  foe  are  of 
one  stuff;  the  ploughman,  the  plough,  and  the 
furrow,  are  of  one  stuff ;  and  the  stuff  is  such, 
and  so  much,  that  the  variations  of  forms  are 
unimportant.  "  You  are  fit "  (says  the 
supreme  Krishna  to  a  sage)  "to  apprehend 
that  you  are  not  distinct  from  me.  That 
which  I  am,  thou  art,  and  that  also  is  this 
world,  with  its  gods,  and  heroes,  and  man 
kind.  Men  contemplate  distinctions,  because 
they  are  stupefied  with  ignorance."  "  The 
words  /and  mine  constitute  ignorance.  What 
is  the  great  end  of  all,  you  shall  now  learn 
from  me.  It  is  soul, — one  in  all  bodies,  per 
vading,  uniform,  perfect,  preeminent  over 


Plato ;  or,  Cbe  pbiloeopbct 


nature,  exempt  from  birth,  growth,  and  decay, 
omnipresent,  made  up  of  true  knowledge, 
independent,  unconnected  with  unrealities, 
with  name,  species,  and  the  rest,  in  time  past, 
present,  and  to  come.  The  knowledge  that 
this  spirit,  which  is  essentially  one,  is  in  one's 
own,  and  in  all  other  bodies,  is  the  wisdom  of 
one  who  knows  the  unity  of  things.  As  one 
diffusive  air,  passing  through  the  perforations 
of  a  flute,  is  distinguished  as  the  notes  of  a 
scale,  so  the  nature  of  the  Great  Spirit  is  single, 
though  its  forms  be  manifold,  arising  from  the 
consequences  of  acts.  When  the  difference  of 
the  investing  form,  as  that  of  god,  or  the  rest, 
is  destroyed,  there  is  no  distinction."  "  The 
whole  world  is  but  a  manifestation  of  Vishnu, 
who  is  identical  with  all  things,  and  is  to  be 
regarded  by  the  wise,  as  not  differing  from, 
but  as  the  same  as  themselves.  I  neither  am 
going  nor  coming  ;  nor  is  my  dwelling  in  any 
one  place  ;  nor  art  thou,  thou  ;  nor  are  others, 
others  ;  nor  am  I,  I."  As  if  he  had  said,  "  All 
is  for  the  soul,  and  the  soul  is  Vishnu ;  and 
animals  and  stars  are  transient  painting  ;  and 
light  is  whitewash  ;  and  durations  are  decep 
tive  ;  and  form  is  imprisonment ;  and  heaven 
itself  a  decoy."  That  which  the  soul  seeks  is 
resolution  into  being,  above  form,  out  of  Tar 
tarus,  and  out  of  heaven, — liberation  from 
nature. 

If  speculation  tends  thus  to  a  terrific  unity, 
in  which  all  things  are  absorbed,  action  tends 


52  "Representative  flken 


directly  backwards  to  diversity.  The  first  is 
the  course  of  gravitation  of  mind  ;  the  second 
is  the  power  of  nature.  Nature  is  the  mani 
fold.  The  unity  absorbs,  and  melts  or  reduces. 
Nature  opens  and  creates.  These  two  prin 
ciples  reappear  and  interpenetrate  all  things, 
all  thought ;  the  one,  the  many.  One  is  being ; 
the  other,  intellect:  one  is  necessity;  the 
other,  freedom  :  one,  rest ;  the  other,  motion  : 
one,  power ;  the  other,  distribution :  one, 
strength  ;  the  other  pleasure  :  one,  conscious 
ness  ;  the  other,  definition  :  one,  genius ;  the 
other,  talent :  one,  earnestness ;  the  other, 
knowledge  :  one,  possession  ;  the  other,  trade  : 
one,  caste ;  the  other,  culture  :  one  king ;  the 
other,  democracy  :  and,  if  we  dare  carry  these 
generalizations  a  step  higher,  and  name  the 
last  tendency  of  both,  we  might  say,  that  the 
end  of  the  one  is  escape  from  organization, — • 
pure  science  ;  and  the  end  of  the  other  is  the 
highest  instrumentality,  or  use  of  means,  or 
executive  deity. 

Each  student  adheres,  by  temperament  and 
by  habit,  to  the  first  or  to  the  second  of  these 
gods  of  the  mind.  By  religion,  he  tends  to 
unity;  by  intellect,  or  by  the  senses,  to  the  many. 
A  too  rapid  unification,  and  an  excessive  appli 
ance  to  parts  and  particulars,  are  the  twin 
dangers  of  speculation. 

To  this  partiality  the  history  of  nations 
corresponded.  The  country  of  unity,  of  im 
movable  institutions,  the  seat  of  a  philosophy 


Plato ;  or,  Gbe  pbilosopber 


delighting  in  abstractions,  of  men  faithful  in 
doctrine  and  in  practice  to  the  idea  of  a  deaf, 
unimplorable,  immense  fate,  is  Asia;  and  it 
realizes  this  fate  in  the  social  institution  of 
caste.  On  the  other  side,  the  genius  of  Europe 
is  active  and  creative  :  it  resists  caste  by  cult 
ure  ;  its  philosophy  was  a  discipline ;  it  is  a 
land  of  arts,  inventions,  trade,  freedom.  If 
the  East  loved  infinity,  the  West  delighted  in 
boundaries. 

European  civility  is  the  triumph  of  talent, 
the  extension  of  system,  the  sharpened  under 
standing,  adaptive  skill,  delight  in  forms, 
delight  in  manifestation,  in  comprehensible 
results.  Pericles,  Athens,  Greece,  had  been 
working  in  this  element  with  the  joy  of  genius 
not  yet  chilled  by  any  foresight  of  the 
detriment  of  an  excess.  They  saw  before 
them  no  sinister  political  economy ;  no  omi 
nous  Malthus  ;  no  Paris  or  London  ;  no  pitiless 
subdivision  of  classes, — the  doom  of  the  pin- 
makers,  the  doom  of  the  weavers,  of  dressers, 
of  stockingers,  of  carders,  of  spinners,  of  col 
liers  ;  no  Ireland ;  no  Indian  caste,  superin 
duced  by  the  efforts  of  Europe  to  throw  it  off. 
The  understanding  was  in  its  health  and 
prime.  Art  was  in  its  splendid  novelty. 
They  cut  the  Pentelican  marble  a\  rf  it  were 
snow,  and  their  perfect  works  in  architecture 
and  sculpture  seemed  things  of  course,  not 
more  difficult  than  the  completion  of  a  new 
ship  at  the  Medford  yards,  or  new  mills  at 


54  "Representative  flfcen 


Lowell.  These  things  are  in  course,  and  may 
be  taken  for  granted.  The  Roman  legion. 
Byzantine  legislation,  English  trade,  the 
saloons  of  Versailles,  the  cafes  of  Paris,  the 
steam-mill,  steamboat,  steam-coach,  may  alf 
be  seen  in  perspective ;  the  town-meeting,  thb 
ballot-box,  the  newspaper  and  cheap  press. 

Meantime,  Plato,  in  Egypt  and  in  Eastern 
pilgrimages,  imbibed  the  idea  of  one  Deity,  in 
which  all  things  are  absorbed.  The  unity  of 
Asia,  and  the  detail  of  Europe  ;  the  infinitude 
of  the  Asiatic  soul,  and  the  defining,  result-lov 
ing,  machine-making,  surface-seeking,  opera- 
going  Europe, — Plato  came  to  join,  and  by 
contact  to  enhance  the  energy  of  each.  The 
excellence  of  Europe  and  Asia  are  in  his 
brain.  Metaphysics  and  natural  philosophy 
expressed  the  genius  of  Europe ;  he  substructs 
the  religion  of  Asia,  as  the  base. 

In  short,  a  balanced  soul  was  born,  percep 
tive  of  the  two  elements.  It  is  as  easy  to  be 
great  as  to  be  small.  The  reason  why  we  do 
not  at  once  believe  in  admirable  souls,  is 
because  they  are  not  in  our  experience.  In 
actual  life,  they  are  so  rare,  as  to  be  incred 
ible  ;  but,  primarily,  there  is  not  only  n( 
presumption  against  them,  but  the  strongest 
presumption  in  favor  of  their  appearance. 
But  whether  voices  were  heard  in  the  sky,  or 
not ;  whether  his  mother  or  his  father  dreamed 
that  the  infant  man-child  was  the  son  of 
Apollo  ;  whether  a  swarm  of  bees  settled  on 


Plato ;  or,  Cbe  ipbtlosopber          55 


his  lips,  or  not ;  a  man  who  could  see  two 
sides  of  a  thing  was  born.  The  wonderful 
synthesis  so  familiar  in  nature  ;  the  upper  and 
the  under  side  of  the  medal  of  Jove  ;  the 
union  of  impossibilities,  which  reappears  in 
every  object ;  its  real  and  its  ideal  power, — 
was  now,  also,  transferred  entire  to  the  con 
sciousness  of  a  man. 

The  balanced  soul  came.  If  he  loved 
abstract  truth,  he  saved  himself  by  propound 
ing  :he  most  popular  of  all  principles,  the 
absolute  good,  which  rules  rulers,  and  judges 
the  judge.  If  he  made  transcendental  dis 
tinctions,  he  fortified  himself  by  drawing  all 
his  illustrations  from  sources  disdained  by 
orators,  and  polite  conversers ;  from  mares 
and  puppies;  from  pitchers  and  soup-ladles; 
from  cooks  and  criers  ;  the  shops  of  potters, 
horse-doctors,  butchers,  and  fishmongers.  He 
cannot  forgive  in  himself  a  partiality,  but  is 
resolved  that  the  two  poles  of  thought  shah 
appear  in  his  statement.  His  argument  and 
his  sentence  are  self-poised  and  spherical. 
The  two  poles  appear  ;  yes,  and  become  two 
hands,  to  grasp  and  appropriate  their  own. 

Every  great  artist  has  been  such  by  synthe 
sis.  Our  strength  is  transitional,  alternating ; 
or,  shall  I  say,  a  thread  of  two  strands.  The 
sea-shore,  sea  seen  from  shore,  shore  seen 
from  sea  ;  the  taste  of  two  metals  in  contact ; 
and  our  enlarged  powers  at  the  approach  and 
at  the  departure  of  a  friend ;  the  experience 


56  "Representative  /Ben 


of  poetic  creativeness,  which  is  not  founJ  in 
staying  at  home,  nor  yet  in  travelling,  but  in 
transitions  from  one  to  the  other,  which  must 
therefore  be  adroitly  managed  to  present  as 
much  transitional  surface  as  possible;  this 
command  of  two  elements  must  explain  the 
power  and  the  charm  of  Plato.  Art  expresses 
the  one,  or  the  same  by  the  different.  Thought 
seeks  to  know  unity  in  unity ;  poetry  to  show 
it  by  variety ;  that  is,  always  by  an  object  or 
symbol.  Plato  keeps  the  two  vases,  one  of 
aether  and  one  of  pigment,  at  his  side,  and  in 
variably  uses  both.  Things  added  to  things, 
as  statistics,  civil  history,  are  inventories. 
Things  used  as  language  are  inexhaustibly 
attractive.  Plato  turns  incessantly  the  obverse 
and  the  reverse  of  the  medal  of  Jove. 

To  take  an  example : — The  physical  phi 
losophers  had  sketched  each  his  theory  of  the 
world  ;  the  theory  of  atoms,  of  fire,  of  flux,  of 
spirit;  theories  mechanical  and  chemical  in 
their  genius.  Plato,  a  master  of  mathematics, 
studious  of  all  natural  laws  and  causes,  feels 
these,  as  second  causes,  to  be  no  theories  of 
the  world,  but  bare  inventories  and  lists.  To 
the  study  of  nature  he  therefore  prefixes  the 
dogma, — "  Let  us  declare  the  cause  which  led 
the  Supreme  Ordainer  to  produce  and  compose 
the  universe.  He  was  good ;  and  he  who  is 
good  has  no  kind  of  envy.  Exempt  from  envy, 
he  wished  that  all  things  should  be  as  much 
as  possible  like  himself.  Whosoever,  taught 


Plato ;  or,  Gbe  ipbilosopber          57 


by  wise  men,  shall  admit  this  as  the  prime 
cause  of  the  origin  and  foundation  of  the 
world,  will  be  in  the  tru-th."  "  All  things  are 
for  the  sake  of  the  good,  and  it  is  the  cause  of 
everything  beautiful."  This  dogma  animates 
and  impersonates  his  philosophy. 

The  synthesis  which  makes  the  character  of 
his  mind  appears  in  all  his  talents.  Where 
there  is  great  compass  of  wit,  we  usually  find 
excellences  that  combine  easily  in  the  living 
man,  but  in  description  appear  incompatible. 
The  mind  of  Plato  is  not  to  be  exhibited  by  a 
Chinese  catalogue,  but  is  to  be  apprehended 
by  an  original  mind  in  the  exercise  of  its 
original  power.  In  him  the  freest  abandon 
ment  is  united  with  the  precision  of  a  geometer. 
His  daring  imagination  gives  him  the  more 
solid  grasp  of  facts  ;  as  the  birds  of  highest 
flight  have  the  strongest  alar  bones.  His 
patrician  polish,  his  intrinsic  elegance,  edged 
by  an  irony  so  subtle  that  it  stings  and  par 
alyzes,  adorn  the  soundest  health  and  strength 
of  frame.  According  to  the  old  sentence,  "  If 
Jove  should  descend  to  the  earth,  he  would 
speak  in  the  style  of  Plato." 

With  this  palatial  air,  there  is,  for  the  direct 
aim  of  several  of  his  works,  and  running  through 
the  tenor  of  them  all,  a  certain  earnestness, 
which  mounts,  in  the  Republic,  and  in  the 
Phaedo,  to  piety.  He  has  been  charged  with 
feigning  sickness  at  the  time  of  the  death  of 
Socrates.  But  the  anecdotes  that  have  come 


5$  "Representative  flben 


down  from  the  times  attest  his  manly  inter 
ference  before  the  people  in  his  master's  behalf, 
since  even  the  savage  cry  of  the  assembly  to 
Plato  is  preserved ;  and  the  indignation  to 
wards  popular  government,  in  many  of  his 
pieces,  expresses  a  personal  exasperation.  He 
has  a  probity,  a  native  reverence  for  justice 
and  honor,  and  a  humanity  which  makes  him 
tender  for  the  superstitions  of  the  people. 
Add  to  this,  he  believes  that  poetry,  prophecy, 
and  the  high  insight,  are  from  a  wisdom  of 
which  man  is  not  master  ;  that  the  gods  never 
philosophize  ;  but,  by  a  celestial  mania,  these 
miracles  are  accomplished.  Horsed  on  these 
winged  steeds,  he  sweeps  the  dim  regions,  visits 
worlds  which  flesh  cannot  enter  ;  he  saw  the 
souls  in  pain  ;  he  hears  the  doom  of  the  judge ; 
he  beholds  the  penal  metempsychosis ;  the 
Fates,  with  the  rock  and  shears ;  and  hears 
the  intoxicating  hum  of  their  spindle. 

But  his  circumspection  never  forsook  him. 
One  would  say,  he  had  read  the  inscription  on 
the  gates  of  Busyrane, — "  Be  bold ;  "  and  on  the 
second  gate, — "  Be  bold,  be  bold  and  evermore 
be  bold ; "  and  then  again  had  paused  well  at 
the  third  gate, — "Be  not  too  bold."  His 
strength  is  like  the  momentum  of  a  falling 
planet ;  and  his  discretion,  the  return  of  its  due 
and  perfect  curve, — so  excellent  is  his  Greek 
love  of  boundary,  and  his  skill  in  definition. 
In  reading  logarithms,  one  is  not  more  secure, 
than  in  following  Plato  in  his  flights.  Nothing 


Plato ;  or,  STbe  BMMlo0opber  59 


can  be  colder  than  his  head,  when  the  light 
nings  of  his  imagination  are  playing  in  the  sky. 
He  has  finished  his  thinking,  before  he  brings 
it  to  the  reader ;  and  he  abounds  in  the  sur 
prises  of  a  literary  master.  He  has  that  opu 
lence  which  furnishes,  at  every  turn,  the  precise 
weapon  he  needs.  As  the  rich  man  wears  no 
more  garments,  drives  no  more  horses,  sits  in 
no  more  chambers,  than  the  poor, — but  has 
that  one  dress,  or  equipage,  or  instrument, 
which  is  fit  for  the  hour  and  the  need ;  so  Plato, 
in  his  plenty,  is  never  restricted,  but  has  the 
fit  word.  There  is,  indeed,  no  weapon  in  all 
the  armory  of  wit  which  he  did  not  possess  and 
use, — epic,  analysis,  mania,  intuition,  music, 
satire,  and  irony,  down  to  the  customary  and 
polite.  His  illustrations  are  poetry  and  his 
jests  illustrations.  Socrates'  profession  of 
obstetric  art  is  good  philosophy  ;  and  his  find 
ing  that  word  "  cookery,"  and  "  adulatory  art," 
for  rhetoric,  in  the  Gorgias,  does  us  a  substan 
tial  service  still.  No  orator  can  measure  in 
effect  with  him  who  can  give  good  nicknames. 
What  moderation,  and  understatement,  and 
checking  his  thunder  in  mid  volley !  He  has 
good-naturedly  furnished  the  courtier  and 
citizen  with  all  that  can  be  said  against  the 
schools.  "  For  philosophy  is  an  elegant  thing, 
if  any  one  modestly  meddles  with  it ;  but,  if  he 
is  conversant  with  it  more  than  is  becoming, 
it  corrupts  the  man."  He  could  well  afford 
to  be  generous, — he,  who  from  the  sunlike 


60  "Representative 


centrality  and  reach  of  his  vision,  had  a  faith 
without  cloud.  Such  as  his  perception,  was 
his  speech  :  he  plays  with  the  doubt,  and 
makes  the  most  of  it :  he  paints  and  quibbles; 
and  by  and  by  comes  a  sentence  that  moves 
the  sea  and  land.  The  admirable  earnest 
comes  not  only  at  intervals,  in  the  perfect  yes 
and  no  of  the  dialogue,  but  in  bursts  of  light. 
"  I,  therefore,  Callicles,  am  persuaded  by  these 
accounts,  and  consider  how  I  may  exhibit  my 
soul  before  the  judge  in  a  healthy  condition. 
Wherefore,  disregarding  the  honors  that  most 
men  value,  and  looking  to  the  truth,  I  shall 
endeavor  in  reality  to  live  as  virtuously  as  I 
can  and,  when  I  die,  to  die  so.  And  I  invite 
all  other  men,  to  the  utmost  of  my  power ;  and 
you,  too,  I  in  turn  invite  to  this  contest,  which, 
I  affirm,  surpasses  all  contests  here." 

He  is  a  great  average  man  one  who,  to  the 
best  thinking,  adds  a  proportion  and  equality 
in  his  faculties,  so  that  men  see  in  him  their 
own  dreams  and  glimpses  made  available,  and 
made  to  pass  for  what  they  are.  A  great  com 
mon  sense  is  his  warrant  and  qualification  to 
be  the  world's  interpreter.  He  has  reason,  as 
all  the  philosophic  and  poetic  class  have  :  but 
he  has,  also,  what  they  have  not, — this  strong 
solving  sense  to  reconcile  his  poetry  with  the 
appearances  of  the  world,  and  build  a  bridge 
from  the  streets  of  cities  to  the  Atlantis.  He 
omits  never  this  graduation,  but  slopes  his 
thought,  however  picturesque  the  precipice  on 


Plato ;  or,  Sbe  Pbilosopbcc 


one  side,  to  an  access  from  the  plain.  He 
never  writes  in  ecstasy,  or  catches  us  up  into 
poetic  rapture. 

Plato  apprehended  the  cardinal  facts.  He 
could  prostrate  himself  on  the  earth,  and  cover 
his  eyes,  whilst  he  adored  that  which  cannot 
be  numbered,  or  gauged,  or  known,  or 
named  :  that  of  which  everything  can  be 
affirmed  and  denied  :  that  "  which  is  entity 
and  nonentity."  He  called  it  super-essential. 
He  even  stood  ready,  as  in  the  Parmenides, 
to  demonstrate  that  it  was  so, — that  this  Being 
exceeded  the  limits  of  intellect.  No  man 
ever  more  fully  acknowledged  the  Ineffable. 
Having  paid  his  homage,  as  for  the  human 
race,  to  the  Illimitable,  he  then  stood  erect,  and 
for  the  human  race  affirmed,  "  And  yet  things 
are  knowable  !  " — that  is,  the  Asia  in  his  mind 
was  first  heartily  honored, — the  ocean  of  love 
and  power,,  before  form,  before  will,  before 
knowledge,  the  Same,  the  Good,  the  One ;  and 
now,  refreshed  and  empowered  by  this  wor 
ship,  the  instinct  of  Europe,  namely,  culture, 
returns ;  and  he  cries,  Yet  things  are  know- 
able  !  They  are  knowable,  because,  being 
from  one,  things  correspond.  There  is  a  scale  : 
and  the  correspondence  of  heaven  to  earth,  of 
matter  to  mind,  of  the  part  to  the  whole,  is 
our  guide.  As  there  is  a  science  of  stars, 
called  astronomy  ;  a  science  of  quantities 
called  mathematics ;  a  science  of  qualities. 


62  "{Representative 


called  chemistry;  so  there  is  a  science  ot 
sciences, — I  call  it  Dialectic, — which  is  the  in 
tellect  discriminating  the  false  and  the  true. 
It  rests  on  the  observation  of  identity  and  di 
versity  ;  for,  to  judge,  is  to  unite  to  an  object 
the  notion  which  belongs  to  it.  The  sciences, 
even  the  best, — mathematics,  and  astronomy, 
are  like  sportsmen,  who  seize  whatever  prey 
offers,  even  without  being  able  to  make  any 
use  of  it.  Dialectic  must  teach  the  use  of 
them.  "  This  is  of  that  rank  that  no  intellect 
ual  man  will  enter  on  any  study  for  its  own 
sake,  but  only  with  a  view  to  advance  himself 
in  that  one  sole  science  which  embraces  all." 
"The  essence  or  peculiarity  of  man  is  to 
comprehend  the  whole  ;  or  that  which  in  the 
diversity  of  sensations,  can  be  comprised 
under  a  rational  unity."  "  The  soul  which 
has  never  perceived  the  truth,  cannot  pass  in 
to  the  human  form."  I  announce  to  men  the 
Intellect.  I  announce  the  good  of  being  inter 
penetrated  by  the  mind  that  made  nature  : 
this  benefit,  namely,  that  it  can  understand 
nature,  which  it  made  and  maketh.  Nature  is 
good,  but  intellect  is  better  :  as  the  law-giver 
is  before  the  law-receiver.  I  give  you  joy,  O 
sons  of  men  !  that  truth  is  altogether  whole 
some  ;  that  we  have  hope  to  search  out  what 
might  be  the  very  self  of  everything.  The 
misery  of  man  is  to  be  balked  of  the  sight  of 
essence,  and  to  be  stuffed  with  conjecture  : 
but  the  supreme  good  is  reality ;  the  supreme 


fMato;  or,  Cbe  ipbilosopbcr  63 


beauty  is  reality  ;  and  all  virtue  and  all  felic 
ity  depend  on  this  science  of  the  real :  for 
courage  is  nothing  else  than  knowledge  :  the 
fairest  fortune  that  can  befall  man,  is  to  be 
guided  by  his  daemon  to  that  which  is  truly 
his  own.  This  also  is  the  essence  of  justice, 
— to  attend  every  one  his  own  ;  nay,  the  no 
tion  of  virtue  is  not  to  be  arrived  at,  except 
through  direct  contemplation  of  the  divine 
essence.  Courage,  then,  for  "  the  persuasion 
that  we  must  search  that  which  we  do  not  know, 
will  render  us,  beyond  comparison,  better, 
braver,  and  more  industrious,  than  if  we 
thought  it  impossible  to  discover  what  we  do 
not  know,  and  useless  to  search  for  it."  He 
secures  a  position  not  to  be  commanded,  by  his 
passion  for  reality  ;  valuing  philosophy  only 
as  it  is  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  real 
being. 

Thus,  full  of  the  genius  of  Europe,  he  said, 
Culture.  He  saw  the  institutions  of  Sparta, 
and  recognized  more  genially,  one  would  say, 
than  any  since,  the  hope  of  education.  He 
delighted  in  every  accomplishment,  in  every 
graceful  and  useful  and  truthful  performance ; 
above  all,  in  the  splendors  of  genius  and  intel 
lectual  achievement.  "  The  whole  of  life,  O 
Socrates,"  said  Glauco,  "  is,  with  the  wise  the 
measure  of  hearing  such  discourses  as  these." 
What  a  price  he  sets  on  the  feats  of  talent,  on 
the  powers  of  Pericles,  of  Isocrate^,  of  Par- 
menides  !  What  price,  above  price  on  the 


64  "Representative  /foen 


talents  themselves !  He  called  the  several 
faculties,  gods,  in  his  beautiful  personation. 
What  value  he  gives  to  the  art  of  gymnastics 
in  education ;  what  to  geometry ;  what  to 
music  ;  what  to  astronomy,  whose  appeasing 
and  medicinal  power  he  celebrates  !  In  the 
Timaeus,  he  indicates  the  highest  employment 
of  the  eyes.  "  By  us  it  is  asserted,  that  God 
invented  and  bestowed  sight  on  us  for  this 
purpose, — that,  on  surveying  the  circles  of  in 
telligence  in  the  heavens,  we  might  properly 
employ  those  of  our  own  minds,  which,  though 
disturbed  when  compared  with  the  others  that 
are  uniform,  are  still  allied  to  their  circula 
tions  ;  and  that,  having  thus  learned,  and  be 
ing  naturally  possessed  of  a  correct  reasoning 
faculty,  we  might,  by  imitating  the  uniform 
revolutions  of  divinity,  set  right  our  own  wan 
derings  and  blunders."  And  in  the  Republic, 
— "  By  each  of  these  disciplines,  a  certain  or 
gan  of  the  soul  is  both  purified  and  reanimated, 
which  is  blinded  and  buried  by  studies  of  an 
other  kind  ;  an  organ  better  worth  saving  than 
ten  thousand  eyes,  sir\ce  truth  is  perceived  by 
this  alone." 

He  said,  Culture ;  but  he  first  admitted  its 
basis,  and  gave  immeasurably  the  first  place  to 
advantages  of  nature.  His  patrician  tastes  laid 
stress  on  the  distinctions  of  birth.  In  the 
doctrine  of  the  organic  character  and  disposi 
tion  is  the  origin  of  caste.  "  Such  as  were  fit 
to  govern,  into  their  composition  the  informing 


Plato ;  or,  Gbe  ipbilosopber          65 


Deity  mingled  gold  :  into  the  military,  silver ; 
iron  and  brass  for  husbandmen  and  artificers." 
The  East  confirms  itself,  in  all  ages,  in  this 
faith.  The  Koran  is  explicit  on  this  point  of 
caste.  "  Men  have  their  metal,  as  of  gold 
and  silver.  Those  of  you  who  were  the  worthy 
ones  in  the  state  of  ignorance,  will  be  the 
worthy  ones  in  the  state  of  faith,  as  soon  as 
you  embrace  it."  Plato  was  not  less  firm. 
"  Of  the  five  orders  of  things,  only  four  can 
be  taught  to  the  generality  of  men."  In  the 
Republic,  he  insists  on  the  temperaments  of 
the  youth,  as  the  first  of  the  first. 

A  happier  example  of  the  stress  laid  on 
nature,  is  in  the  dialogue  with  the  young 
Theages,  who  wishes  to  receive  lessons  from 
Socrates.  Socrates  declares  that,  if  some 
have  grown  wise  by  associating  with  him,  no 
thanks  are  due  to  him  ;  but,  simply,  whilst 
they  were  with  him,  they  grew  wise,  not  be 
cause  of  him  ;  he  pretends  not  to  know  the 
way  of  it.  "  It  is  adverse  to  many,  nor  can 
those  be  benefited  by  associating  with  me, 
whom  the  Daemon  opposes  ;  so  that  it  is  not 
possible  for  me  to  live  with  these.  With  many, 
however,  he  does  not  prevent  me  from  convers 
ing,  who  yet  are  not  at  all  benefited  by  associat 
ing  with  me.  Such,  O  Theages,  is  the  associa 
tion  with  me  ;  for,  if  it  pleases  the  God,  you 
will  make  great  and  rapid  proficiency  :  you 
will  not,  if  he  does  not  please.  Judge  whether 
it  is  not  safer  to  be  instructed  by  some  one  of 
5 


66  TRepresentative  /Ren 


those  who  have  power  over  the  benefit  which 
they  impart  to  men,  than  by  me,  who  benefit 
or  not,  just  as  it  may  happen."  As  if  he  had 
said,  "  I  have  no  system.  I  cannot  be  answer 
able  for  you.  You  will  be  what  you  must.  If 
there  is  love  between  us,  inconceivably  deli 
cious  and  profitable  will  our  intercourse  be  ;  if 
not,  your  time  is  lost,  and  you  will  only  annoy 
me.  I  shall  seem  to  you  stupid,  and  the  rep 
utation  I  have,  false.  Quite  above  us,  be 
yond  the  will  of  you  or  me,  is  this  secret  affinity 
or  repulsion  laid.  All  my  good  is  magnetic, 
and  I  educate,  not  by  lessons,  but  by  going 
about  my  business." 

He  said,  Culture ;  he  said,  Nature  :  and  he 
failed  not  to  add,  "  There  is  also  the  divine." 
There  is  no  thought  in  any  mind,  but  it  quickly 
tends  to  convert  itself  into  a  power,  and  organ 
izes  a  huge  instrumentality  of  means.  Plato, 
lover  of  limits,  loved  the  illimitable,  saw  the 
enlargement  and  nobility  which  come  from 
truth  itself  and  good  itself,  and  attempted,  as 
if  on  the  part  of  the  human  intellect,  once  for 
all,  to  do  it  adequate  homage, — homage  fit  for 
the  immense  soul  to  receive,  and  yet  homage 
becoming  the  intellect  to  render.  He  said, 
then,  "  Our  faculties  run  out  into  infinity,  and 
return  to  us  thence.  We  can  define  but  a 
little  way  ;  but  here  is  a  fact  which  will  not  be 
skipped,  and  which  to  shut  our  eyes  upon  is 
suicide.  All  things  are  in  a  scale  ;  and,  begin 
where  we  will,  ascend  and  ascend.  All  things 


tMato ;  or,  £be  fcbilosopber          67 


arc  symbolical ;  and  what  we  call  results  are 
beginnings." 

A  key  to  the  method  and  completeness  of 
Plato  is  his  twice  bisected  line.  After  he  has 
illustrated  the  relation  between  the  absolute 
good  and  true,  and  the  forms  of  the  intelligible 
world,  he  says  : — "  Let  there  be  a  line  cut  in 
two  unequal  parts.  Cut  again  each  of  these 
two  parts, — one  representing  the  visible,  the 
other  the  intelligible  world, — and  these  two 
new  sections,  representing  the  bright  part  and 
the  dark  part  of  these  worlds,  you  will  have, 
for  one  of  the  sections  of  the  visible  world, — 
images,  that  is,  both  shadows  and  reflections ; 
for  the  other  section,  the  objects  of  these  im 
ages, — that  is,  plants,  animals,  and  the  works 
of  art  and  nature.  Then  divide  the  intelli 
gible  world  in  like  manner  ;  the  one  section 
will  be  of  opinions  and  hypotheses,  and  the 
other  section,  of  truths."  To  these  four  sec 
tions,  the  four  operations  of  the  soul  corre 
spond, — conjecture,  faith,  understanding,  rea 
son.  As  every  pool  reflects  the  image  of  the 
sun,  so  every  thought  and  thing  restores  us  an 
image  and  creature  of  the  supreme  Good. 
The  universe  is  perforated  by  a  million  chan 
nels  for  his  activity.  All  things  mount  and 
mount. 

All  his  thought  has  this  ascension ;  in 
Phaedrus,  teaching  that  "  beauty  is  the  most 
lovely  of  all  things,  exciting  hilarity,  and 
shedding  desire  and  confidence  through  the 


68  "Representative  /iften 


universe,  wherever  it  enters  ;  and  it  enters,  in 
some  degree,  into  all  things  :  but  that  there  is 
another,  which  is  as  much  more  beautiful  than 
beauty,  as  beauty  is  than  chaos ;  namely, 
wisdom,  which  our  wonderful  organ  of  sight 
cannot  reach  unto,  but  which,  could  it  be  seen, 
would  ravish  us  with  its  perfect  reality."  He 
has  the  same  regard  to  it  as  the  source  of 
excellence  in  works  of  art.  "  When  an  artificer, 
in  the  fabrication  of  any  work,  looks  to  that 
which  always  subsists  according  to  the  same ; 
and,  employing  a  model  of  this  kind,  expresses 
its  idea  and  power  in  his  work  ;  it  must  fol 
low,  that  his  production  should  be  beautiful. 
But  when  he  beholds  that  which  is  born  and 
dies,  it  will  be  far  from  beautiful." 

Thus  ever :  the  Banquet  is  a  teaching  in 
the  same  spirit,  familiar  now  to  all  the  poetry, 
and  to  all  the  sermons  of  the  world,  that  the 
love  of  the  sexes  is  initial ;  and  symbolizes,  at 
a  distance,  the  passion  of  the  soul  for  that 
immense  lake  of  beauty  it  exists  to  seek. 
ThiSb.-airh  in  the  Divinity  is  never  out  of  mind, 
an^xmstitutes  the  limitation  of  all  his  dogmas. 
Boay  cannot  teach  wisdom  ; — God  only.  In 
the  same  mind,  he  constantly  affirms  that 
virtue  cannot  be  taught ;  that  it  is  not  a 
science,  but  an  inspiration  ;  that  the  greatest 
goods  are  produced  to  us  through  mania,  and 
are  assigned  to  us  by  a  divine  gift. 

This  leads  me  to  that  central  figure,  which 
he  has  established  in  his  Academy,  as  the 


Plato ;  or,  vTbe  ipbilosopber          69 


organ  through  which  every  considered  opinion 
shall  be  announced,  and  whose  biography  he 
has  likewise  so  labored,  that  the  historic  facts 
are  lost  in  the  light  of  Plato's  mind.  Socrates 
,nd  Plato  are  the  double  star,  which  the  most 
powerful  instruments  will  not  entirely  separate. 
Socrates,  again,  in  his  traits  and  genius,  is  the 
best  example  of  that  synthesis  which  consti 
tutes  Plato's  extraordinary  power.  Socrates, 
a  man  of  humble  stem,  but  honest  enough ;  of 
the  commonest  history ;  of  a  personal  home 
liness  so  remarkable,  as  to  be  a  cause  of  wit 
in  others, — the  rather  that  his  broad  good 
nature  and  exquisite  taste  for  a  joke  invited  the 
sally,  which  was  sure  to  be  paid.  The  players 
personated  him  on  the  stage ;  the  potters 
copied  his  ugly  face  on  their  stone  jugs.  He 
was  a  cool  fellow,  adding  to  his  humor  a  per 
fect  temper,  and  a  knowledge  of  his  man,  be 
he  who  he  might  whom  he  talked  with,  whiofe 
laid  the  companion  open  to  certain  defeat  in 
any  debate, — and  in  debate  he  immoderately 
delighted.  The  young  men  are  prodigiously 
fond  of  him,  and  invite  him  to  their  feasts, 
whither  he  goes  for  conversation.  He  can 
drink,  too ;  has  the  strongest  head  in  Athens  ; 
and,  after  leaving  the  whole  party  under  the 
table,  goes  away,  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
to  begin  new  dialogues  with  somebody  that  is 
sober.  In  short,  he  was  what  our  country- 
people  call  an  old  one. 

He  affected  a  good  many  citizen-like  tastes, 


70  "Representative  /Ren 


was  monstrously  fond  of  Athens,  hated  trees, 
never  willingly  went  beyond  the  walls^  knew 
the  old  characters,  valued  the  bores  and  philis- 
tines,  thought  everything  in  Athens  a  little 
better  than  anything  in  any  other  place.  He 
was  plain  as  a  Quaker  in  habit  and  speech, 
affected  low  phrases,  and  illustrations  from 
cocks  and  quails,  soup-pans  and  sycamore- 
spoons,  grooms  and  farriers,  and  unnameable 
offices, — especially  if  he  talked  with  any  super 
fine  person.  He  had  a  Franklin-like  wisdom. 
Thus,  he  showed  one  who  was  afraid  to  go 
on  foot  to  Olympia,  that  it  was  no  more  than 
his  daily  walk  within  doors,  if  continuously 
extended,  would  easily  reach. 

Plain  old  uncle  as  he  was,  with  his  great 
ears, — an  immense  talker, — the  rumor  ran, 
that,  on  one  or  two  occasions,  in  the  war  with 
Boeotia,  he  had  shown  a  determination  which 
had  covered  the  retreat  of  a  troop  ;  and  there 
was  some  story  that,  under  cover  of  folly,  he 
had,  in  the  city  government,  when  one  day 
he  chanced  to  hold  a  seat  there,  evinced  a 
courage  in  opposing  singly  the  popular  voice, 
which  had  well-nigh  ruined  him.  He  is  very 
poor ;  but  then  he  is  hardy  as  a  soldier,  and 
can  live  on  a  few  olives  ;  usually,  in  the  strict 
est  sense,  on  bread  and  water,  except  when 
entertained  by  his  friends.  His  necessary  ex 
penses  were  exceedingly  small,  and  no  onfr 
could  live  as  he  did.  He  wore  no  under  gat- 
ment;  his  upper  garment  was  the  same  for 


Plato ;  or,  ftbe  pbllosopbet          71 


summer  and  winter ;  and  he  went  barefooted  ; 
and  it  is  said  that,  to  procure  the  pleasure, 
which  he  loves,  of  talking  at  his  ease  all  day 
with  the  most  elegant  and  cultivated  young 
men,  he  will  now  and  then  return  to  his  shop, 
and  carve  statues,  good  or  bad,  for  sale. 
However  that  be,  it  is  certain  that  he  had 
grown  to  delight  in  nothing  else  than  this  con 
versation  ;  and  that,  under  his  hypocritical 
pretense  of  knowing  nothing,  he  attacks  and 
brings  down  all  the  fine  speakers,  all  the  fine 
philosophers  of  Athens,  whether  natives,  or 
strangers  from  Asia  Minor  and  the  islands. 
Nobody  can  refuse  to  talk  with  him,  he  is  so 
honest,  and  really  curious  to  know ;  a  man 
who  was  willingly  confuted,  if  he  did  not 
speak  the  truth,  and  who  willingly  confuted 
others,  asserting  what  was  false  ;  and  not  less 
pleased  when  confuted  than  when  confuting  ; 
for  he  thought  not  any  evil  happened  to  men, 
of  such  a  magnitude  as  false  opinion  respect 
ing  the  just  and  unjust.  A  pitiless  disputant, 
who  knows  nothing,  but  the  bounds  of  whose 
conquering  intelligence  no  man  had  ever 
reached ;  whose  temper  was  imperturbable  ; 
whose  dreadful  logic  was  always  leisurely  and 
sportive  :  so  careless  and  ignorant  as  to  dis 
arm  the  wariest,  and  draw  them,  in  the  pleas- 
antest  manner,  into  horrible  doubts  and  con 
fusion.  But  he  always  knew  the  way  out; 
knew  it,  yet  would  not  tell  it.  No  escape  ;  he 
drives  them  to  terrible  choices  by  his  dilem« 


72  "Representative  f&en 


mas,  and  tosses  the  Hippiases  and  Gorgiases, 
with  their  grand  reputations,  as  a  boy  tosses 
his  balls.  The  tyrannous  realist ! — Meno  has 
discoursed  a  thousand  times,  at  length,  on 
virtue,  before  many  companies,  and  very  well, 
as  it  appeared  to  him  ;  but,  at  this  moment,  he 
cannot  even  tell  what  it  is, — this  cramp-fish  of 
a  Socrates  has  so  bewitched  him. 

This  hard-headed  humorist,  whose  strange 
conceits,  drollery,  and  bonhommie,  diverted 
the  young  patricians,  whilst  the  rumor  of  his 
sayings  and  quibbles  gets  abroad  every  day, 
turns  out,  in  the  sequel,  to  have  a  probity  as 
invincible  as  his  logic  and  to  be  either  insane, 
or,  at  least,  under  cover  of  this  play,  enthusi 
astic  in  his  religion.  When  accused  before 
the  judges  of  subverting  the  popular  creed,  he 
affirms  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  future 
reward  and  punishment ;  and,  refusing  to  re 
cant,  in  a  caprice  of  the  popular  government, 
was  condemned  to  die,  and  sent  to  the  prison. 
Socrates  entered  the  prison,  and  took  away  all 
ignominy  from  the  place,  which  could  not  be  a 
prison,  whilst  he  was  there.  Crito  bribed  the 
jailer ;  but  Socrates  would  not  go  out  by 
treachery.  "  Whatever  inconvenience  ensue, 
nothing  is  to  be  preferred  before  justice. 
These  things  I  hear  like  pipes  and  drums, 
whose  sound  makes  me  deaf  to  everything 
you  say."  The  fame  of  this  prison,  the  fame 
of  the  discourses  there,  and  the  drinking  of 
the  hemlock,  are  one  of  the  most  precious 
passages  in  the  history  of  the  world. 


Plato ;  or,  Gbe  ipbtloaopber          73 


The  rare  coincidence,  in  one  ugly  body,  of 
the  droll  and  the  martyr,  the  keen  street  and 
market  debater  with  the  sweetest  saint  known 
to  any  history  at  that  time,  had  forcibly  struck 
the  mind  of  Plato,  so  capacious  of  these  con 
trasts  ;  and  the  figure  of  Socrates,  by  a  neces 
sity,  placed  itself  in  the  foreground  of  the 
scene,  as  the  fittest  dispenser  of  the  intellect 
ual  treasures  he  had  to  communicate.  It  was 
a  rare  fortune,  that  this  ^Esod  of  the  mob,  and 
this  robed  scholar,  should  meet,  to  make  each 
other  immortal  in  their  mutual  faculty.  The 
strange  synthesis,  in  the  character  of  Socrates, 
capped  the  synthesis  in  the  mind  of  Plato. 
Moreover,  by  this  means,  he  was  able,  in  the 
direct  way,  and  without  envy,  to  avail  himself 
of  the  wit  and  weight  of  Socrates,  to  which 
unquestionably  his  own  debt  was  great ;  and 
these  derived  again  their  principal  advantage 
from  the  perfect  art  of  Plato. 

It  remains  to  say,  that  the  defect  of  Plato 
in  power  is  only  that  which  results  inevitably 
from  his  quality.  He  is  intellectual  in  his 
aim ;  and,  therefore,  in  expression,  literary. 
Mounting  into  heaven,  driving  into  the  pit,  ex 
pounding  the  laws  of  the  state,  the  passion  of 
love,  the  remorse  of  crime,  the  hope  of  the 
parting  soul, — he  is  literary,  and  never  other 
wise.  It  is  almost  the  sole  deduction  from 
the  merit  of  Plato,  that  his  writings  have  not, 
— what  is,  no  doubt,  incident  to  this  regnancy 
of  intellect  in  his  work, — the  vital  authority 


74  TRepresentativc  Men 


which  the  screams  of  prophets  and  the  ser 
mons  of  unlettered  Arabs  and  Jews  possess. 
There  is  an  interval ;  and  to  cohesion,  contact 
is  necessary. 

I  know  not  what  can  be  said  in  reply  to  this 
criticism,  but  that  we  have  come  to  a  fact  in 
the  nature  of  things  :  an  oak  is  not  an  orange. 
The  qualities  of  sugar  remain  with  sugar,  and 
those  of  salt,  with  salt. 

In  the  second  place,  he  has  not  a  system. 
The  dearest  defenders  and  disciples  are  at 
fault.  He  attempted  a  theory  of  the  universe, 
and  his  theory  is  not  complete  or  self-evident. 
One  man  thinks  he  means  this,  and  another, 
that :  he  has  said  one  thing  in  one  place,  and 
the  reverse  of  it  in  another  place.  He  is 
charged  with  having  failed  to  make  the  transi 
tion  from  ideas  to  matter.  Here  is  the  world, 
sound  as  a  nut,  perfect,  not  the  smallest  piece 
of  chaos  left,  never  a  stitch  nor  an  end,  not  a 
mark  of  haste,  or  botching,  or  second  thought ; 
but  the  theory  of  the  world  is  a  thing  of  shreds 
and  patches. 

The  longest  wave  is  quickly  lost  in  the  sea. 
Plato  would  willingly  have  a  Platonism,  a 
known  and  accurate  expression  for  the  world, 
and  it  should  be  accurate.  It  shall  be  the 
world  passed  through  the  mind  of  Plato, — 
nothing  less.  Every  atom  shall  have  the  Pla 
tonic  tinge ;  every  atom,  every  relation  or 
quality  you  knew  before,  you  shall  know 
again  and  find  here,  but  now  ordered  ;  not 


Iplato ;  or,  tTbc  ipbilosopbet          75 


aature,  but  art.  And  you  shall  feel  that  Alex 
ander  indeed  overran,  with  men  and  horses, 
some  countries  of  the  planet ;  but  countries, 
and  things  of  which  countries  are  made,  ele 
ments,  planet  itself,  laws  of  planet  and  of  men, 
have  passed  through  this  man  as  bread  into 
his  body,  and  become  no  longer  bread,  but 
body  :  so  all  this  mammoth  morsel  has  become 
Plato.  He  has  clapped  copyright  on  the 
world.  This  is  the  ambition  of  individualism. 
But  the  mouthful  proves  too  large.  Boa  con 
strictor  has  good  will  to  eat  it,  but  he  is  foiled. 
He  falls  abroad  in  the  attempt;  and  biting, 
gets  strangled :  the  bitten  world  holds  the 
biter  fast  by  his  own  teeth.  There  he  per 
ishes  :  unconquered  nature  lives  on,  and  for 
gets  him.  So  it  fares  with  all :  so  must  it  fare 
with  Plato.  In  view  of  eternal  nature,  Plato 
turns  out  to  be  philosophical  exercitations. 
He  argues  on  this  side,  and  on  that.  The 
acutest  German,  the  lovingest  disciple,  could 
never  tell  what  Platonism  was ;  indeed,  ad 
mirable  texts  can  be  quoted  on  both  sides  of 
every  great  question  from  him. 

These  things  we  are  forced  to  say,  if  we 
must  consider  the  effort  of  Plato,  or  of  any  phi 
losopher,  to  dispose  of  Nature, — which  will  not 
be  disposed  of.  No  power  of  genius  has  ever 
yet  had  the  smallest  success  in  explaining  ex 
istence.  The  perfect  enigma  remains.  But 
there  is  an  injustice  in  assuming  this  ambition 
for  Plato.  Let  us  not  seem  to  tre^t  with  flip* 


7  6  "Representative  /fcen 


pancy  his  venerable  name.  Men,  in  propor 
tion  to  their  intellect,  have  admitted  his  tran 
scendent  claims.  The  way  to  know  him,  is  to 
compare  him,  not  with  nature,  but  with  other 
men.  How  many  ages  have  gone  by,  and  he 
remains  unapproached  !  A  chief  structure  of 
human  wit,  like  Karnac,  or  the  mediaeval  cathe 
drals,  or  the  Etrurian  remains,  it  requires  all  the 
breadth  of  human  faculty  to  know  it.  I  think 
it  is  truliest  seen,  when  seen  with  the  most 
respect.  His  sense  deepens,  his  merits  multi 
ply,  with  study.  When  we  say,  here  is  a  fine 
collection  of  fables ;  or,  when  we  praise  the 
style  ;  or  the  common  sense  ;  or  arithmetic ; 
we  speak  as  boys,  and  much  of  our  impatient 
criticism  of  the  dialectic,  I  suspect,  is  no 
better.  The  criticism  is  like  our  impatience 
of  miles,  when  we  are  in  a  hurry  ;  but  it  is  still 
best  that  a  mile  should  have  seventeen  hun 
dred  and  sixty  yards.  The  great-eyed  Plato 
proportioned  the  lights  and  shades  alter  the 
genius  of  our  life. 


PLATO :  NEW  READINGS. 


PLATO !  NEW  READINGS. 


THE  publication,  in  Mr.  Bonn's  "  Serial  Li 
brary,"  of  the  excellent  translations  of  Plato, 
which  we  esteem  one  of  the  chief  benefits  the 
cheap  press  has  yielded,  gives  us  an  occasion 
to  take  hastily  a  few  more  notes  of  the  eleva 
tion  and  bearings  of  this  fixed  star ;  or,  to  add 
a  bulletin,  like  the  journals,  of  Plato  at  the 
latest  dates. 

Modern  science,  by  the  extent  of  its  gener 
alization,  has  learned  to  indemnify  the  student 
of  man  for  the  defects  of  individuals,  by  trac 
ing  growth  and  ascent  in  races  ;  and,  by  the 
simple  expedient  of  lighting  up  the  vast  back 
ground,  generates  a  feeling  of  complacency 
and  hope.  The  human  being  has  the  saurian 
and  the  plant  in  his  rear.  His  arts  and 
sciences,  the  easy  issue  of  his  brain,  look  glori 
ous  when  prospectively  beheld  from  the  dis 
tant  brain  of  ox,  crocodile,  and  fish.  It  seems 
as  if  nature,  in  regarding  the  geologic  night 
behind  her,  when,  in  five  or  six  millenniums, 

79 


8o  TRepresentattve  /nben 


she  had  turned  out  five  or  six  men,  as  Homer, 
Phidias,  Menu,  and  Columbus,  was  nowise 
discontented  with  the  result.  These  samples 
attested  the  virtue  of  the  tree.  These  were  a 
clear  amelioration  of  trilobite  and  saurus,  and 
a  good  basis  for  further  proceeding.  With 
this  artist  time  and  space  are  cheap,  and  she 
is  insensible  of  what  you  say  of  tedious  prep 
aration.  She  waited  tranquilly  the  flowing 
periods  of  paleontology,  for  the  hour  to  be 
struck  when  man  should  arrive.  Then  periods 
must  pass  before  the  motion  of  the  earth  can 
be  suspected  ;  then  before  the  map  of  the 
instincts  and  the  cultivable  powers  can  be 
drawn.  But  as  of  races,  so  the  succession 
of  individual  men  is  fatal  and  beautiful,  and 
Plato  has  the  fortune,  in  the  history  of  man 
kind,  to  mark  an  epoch. 

Plato's  fame  does  not  stand  on  a  syllogism, 
or  on  any  masterpieces  of  the  Socratic  reason 
ing,  or  on  any  thesis,  as,  for  example,  the  im 
mortality  of  the  soul.  He  is  more  than  an  ex 
pert,  or  a  school-man,  or  a  geometer,  or  the 
prophet  of  a  peculiar  message.  He  repre 
sents  the  privilege  of  the  intellect,  the  power, 
namely,  of  carrying  up  every  fact  to  succes 
sive  platforms,  and  so  disclosing,  in  every 
fact,  a  germ  of  expansion.  These  expansions 
are  in  the  essence  of  thought.  The  naturalist 
would  never  help  us  to  them  by  any  discov 
eries  of  the  extent  of  the  universe,  but  is  as 
tjoor,  when  cataloguing  the  resolved  nebula  of 


Plato  :  t}ew  "Readings  81 


Orion,  as  when  measuring  the  angles  of  an 
acre.  But  the  Republic  of  Plato,  by  these 
expansions,  may  be  said  to  require,  and  so  to 
anticipate,  the  astronomy  of  Laplace.  The 
expansions  are  organic.  The  mind  does  not 
create  what  it  perceives,  any  more  than  the  eye 
creates  the  rose.  In  ascribing  to  Plato  the 
merit  of  announcing  them,  we  only  say,  here 
was  a  more  complete  man,  who  could  apply  to 
nature  the  whole  scale  of  the  senses,  the  under 
standing,  and  the  reason.  These  expansions, 
or  extensions,  consist  in  continuing  the  spiritual 
sight  where  the  horizon  falls  on  our  natural 
vision,  and,  by  this  second  sight,  discovering 
the  long  lines  of  law  which  shoot  in  every 
direction.  Everywhere  he  stands  on  a  path 
which  has  no  end,  but  runs  continuously  round 
the  universe.  Therefore,  every  word  becomes 
an  exponent  of  nature.  Whatever  he  looks 
upon  discloses  a  second  sense,  and  ulterior 
senses.  His  perception  of  the  generation  of 
contraries,  of  death  out  of  life,  and  life  out  of 
death, — that  law  by  which,  in  nature,  decom 
position  is  recomposition,  and  putrefaction  and 
cholera  are  only  signals  of  a  new  creation  ;  his 
discernment  of  the  little  in  the  large,  and  the 
large  in  the  small-,  studying  the  state  in  the 
citizen,  and  the  citizen  in  the  state;  and  leav 
ing  it  doubtful  whether  he  exhibited  the  Re 
public  as  an  allegory  on  the  education  of  the 
private  soul ;  his  beautiful  definitions  of  ideas, 
of  time,  of  form,  of  figure,  of  the  line,  some- 
6 


82  TRepresentative 


times  hypothetically  given,  as  his  defining  of 
virtue,  courage,  justice,  temperance  ;  his  love 
of  the  apologue,  and  his  apologues  themselves  ; 
the  cave  of  Trophonius  ;  the  ring  of  Gyges  ;  the 
charioteer  and  two  horses ;  the  golden,  silver, 
brass,  and  iron  temperaments ;  Theuth  and 
Thamus  ;  and  the  visions  of  Hades  and  the 
Fates, — fables  which  have  imprinted  them 
selves  in  the  human  memory  like  the  signs  of 
the  zodiac;  his  soliform  eye  and  his  boniform 
soul ;  his  doctrine  of  assimilation  ;  his  doctrine 
of  reminiscence  ;  his  clear  vision  of  the  laws 
of  return,  or  reaction,  which  secure  instant 
justice  throughout  the  universe,  instanced 
everywhere,  but  specially  in  the  doctrine, 
"what  comes  from  God  to  us,  returns  from  us 
to  God,"  and  in  Socrates'  belief  that  the  laws 
below  are  sisters  of  the  laws  above. 

More  striking  examples  are  his  moral  conclu 
sions.  Plato  affirms  the  coincidence  of  science 
and  virtue  ;  for  vice  can  never  know  itself  and 
virtue  ;  but  virtue  knows  both  itself  and  vice. 
The  eye  attested  that  justice  was  best,  as  long 
as  it  was  profitable ;  Plato  affirms  that  it  is 
profitable  throughout ;  that  the  profit  is  in 
trinsic,  though  the  just  conceal  his  justice  from 
gods  and  men  ;  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  in 
justice,  than  to  do  it ;  that  the  sinner  ought  to 
covet  punishment ;  that  the  lie  was  more  hurt 
ful  than  homicide  ;  and  that  ignorance,  or  the 
involuntary  lie,  was  more  calamitous  than  in 
voluntary  homicide ;  that  the  soul  is  umv.il- 


Plato :  Trtew  IReaOinge  83 


ingly  deprived  of  true  opinions  ;  and  that  no 
man  sins  willingly;  that  the  order  of  proceed 
ing  of  nature  was  from  the  mind  to  the  body; 
and,  though  a  sound  body  cannot  restore  an 
unsound  mind,  yet  a  good  soul  can,  by  its  vir 
tue,  render  the  body  the  best  possible.  The  in 
telligent  have  a  right  over  the  ignorant,  namely, 
the  right  of  instructing  them.  The  right  pun 
ishment  of  one  out  of  tune,  is  to  make  him  play 
in  tune ;  the  fine  which  the  good,  refusing  to 
govern,  ought  to  pay,  is,  to  be  governed  by  a 
worse  man  ;  that  his  guards  shall  not  handle 
gold  and  silver,  but  shall  be  instructed  that 
there  is  gold  and  silver  in  their  souls,  which  will 
make  men  willing  to  give  them  everything 
which  they  need. 

This  second  sight  explains  the  stress  laid  on 
geometry.  He  saw  that  the  globe  of  earth 
was  not  more  lawful  and  precise  than  was  the 
supersensible  ;  that  a  celestial  geometry  was  in 
place  there,  as  a  logic  of  lines  and  angles  here 
below ;  that  the  world  was  throughout  math 
ematical  ;  the  proportions  are  constant  of 
oxygen,  azote,  and  lime  ;  there  is  just  so  much 
water,  and  slate,  and  magnesia ;  not  less  are 
the  proportions  constant  of  moral  elements. 

This  eldest  Goethe,  hating  varnish  and  false 
hood,  delighted  in  revealing  the  real  at  the 
base  of  the  accidental ;  in  discovering  con 
nection,  continuity,  and  representation,  «very- 
where  ;  hating  insulation  ;  and  appears  like  the 
god  of  wealth  among  the  cabins  of  vagabonds, 


84  "Representative  /Ren 


opening  power  and  capability  in  everything  he 
touches.  Ethical  science  was  new  and  vacant, 
when  Plato  could  write  thus  : — "  Of  all  whose 
arguments  are  left  to  the  men  of  the  present 
time,  no  one  has  ever  yet  condemned  injustice, 
or  praised  justice,  otherwise  than  as  respects 
the  repute,  honors,  and  emoluments  arising 
therefrom ;  while,  as  respects  either  of  them  in 
itself,  and  subsisting  by  its  own  power  in  the 
soul  of  the  possessor,  and  concealed  both  from 
gods  and  men,  no  one  has  yet  sufficiently  inves 
tigated, either  in  poetry  or  prose  writings, — how, 
namely,  that  the  one  is  the  greatest  of  all  the 
evils  that  the  soul  has  within  it,  and  justice 
the  greatest  good." 

His  definition  of  ideas,  as  what  is  simple, 
permanent,  uniform,  and  self-existent,  forever 
discriminating  them  from  the  notions  of  the 
understanding,  marks  an  era  in  the  world.  He 
was  born  to  behold  the  self-evolving  power  of 
spirit,  endless  generator  of  new  ends ;  a  power 
which  is  the  key  at  once  to  the  centrality  and 
the  evanescence  of  things.  Plato  is  so  centred, 
that  he  can  well  spare  all  his  dogmas.  Thus 
the  fact  of  knowledge  and  ideas  reveals  to  him 
the  fact  of  eternity ;  and  the  doctrine  of  remi 
niscence  he  offers  as  the  most  probable  partic 
ular  explication.  Call  that  fanciful, — it  mat 
ters  not :  the  connection  between  our  knowl 
edge  and  the  abyss  of  being  is  still  real,  and 
the  explication  must  be  not  less  magnificent. 

He  has  indicated  every  eminent  point  in 


Plato:  1Rew  "Readings  85 


speculation.  He  wrote  on  the  scale  of  the  mind 
itself,  so  that  all  things  have  symmetry  in  his 
tablet.  He  put  in  all  the  past,  without  weari 
ness,  and  descended  into  detail  with  a  courage 
like  that  he  witnessed  in  nature.  One  would 
say,  that  his  forerunners  had  mapped  out  each 
a  farm,  or  a  district,  or  an  island,  in  intellect 
ual  geography,  but  that  Plato  first  drew  the 
sphere.  He  domesticates  the  soul  in  nature: 
man  is  the  microcosm.  All  the  circles  of  the 
visible  heaven  represent  as  many  circles  in  the 
rational  soul.  There  is  no  lawless  particle, 
and  there  is  nothing  casual  in  the  action  of  the 
human  mind.  The  names  of  things,  too,  are 
fatal,  following  the  nature  of  things.  All  the 
gods  of  the  Pantheon  are,  by  their  names,  sig 
nificant  of  a  profound  sense.  The  gods  are 
the  ideas.  Pan  is  speech,  or  manifestation  ; 
Saturn,  the  contemplative ;  Jove,  the  regal 
soul ;  and  Mars,  passion.  Venus  is  propor 
tion  ;  Calliope,  the  soul  of  the  world  ;  Aglaia, 
intellectual  illustration. 

These  thoughts,  in  sparkles  of  light,  had  ap 
peared  often  to  pious  and  to  poetic  souls  ;  but 
this  well-bred,  all-knowing  Greek  geometer 
comes  with  command,  gathers  them  all  up  into 
rank  and  gradation,  the  Euclid  of  holiness, 
and  marries  the  two  parts  of  nature.  Before 
all  men,  he  saw  the  intellectual  values  of  the 
moral  sentiment.  He  describes  his  own 
ideal,  when  he  paints  in  Timaeus  a  god  leading 


86  TRepresentattoe  /Ren 


things  from  disorder  into  order.  He  kindled 
a  fire  so  truly  in  the  centre,  that  we  see  the 
sphere  illuminated,  and  can  distinguish  poles, 
equator,  and  lines  of  latitude,  every  arc  and 
node :  a  theory  so  averaged,  so  modulated, 
that  you  would  say,  the  winds  of  ages  had 
swept  through  this  rhythmic  structure,  and  not 
that  it  was  the  brief  extempore  blotting  of  one 
short-lived  scribe.  Hence  it  has  happened 
that  a  very  well-marked  class  of  souls,  namely 
those  who  delight  in  giving  a  spiritual,  that  is, 
an  ethico-intellectual  expression  to  every  truth 
by  exhibiting  an  ulterior  end  which  is  yet 
legitimate  to  it,  are  said  to  Platonize.  Thus, 
Michel  Angelo  is  a  Platonist,  in  his  sonnets. 
Shakspeare  is  a  Platonist,  when  he  writes, 
"  Nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean,  but  nat 
ure  makes  that  mean,"  or, 

"  He,  that  can  endure 
To  follow  with  allegiance  a  fallen  lord, 
Does  conquer  him  that  did  his  master  conquer, 
And  earns  a  place  in  the  story." 

Hamlet  is  a  pure  Platonist,  and  'tis  the  magni 
tude  only  of  Shakspeare's  proper  genius  that 
hinders  him  from  being  classed  as  the  most 
eminent  of  this  school.  Swedenborg,  through 
out  his  prose  poem  of  "  Conjugal  Love,"  is  a, 
Platonist. 

His   subtlety  commended  him    to   men   of 
thought.     The  secret  of  his  popular  success  id 


IMato ;  flew  "Readings  87 


the  moral  aim,  which  endeared  him  to  man 
kind.  "  Intellect,"  he  said,  "  is  king  of 
heaven  and  of  earth  ;  "  but,  in  Plato,  intellect  is 
always  moral.  His  writings  have  also  the 
sempiternal  youth  of  poetry.  For  their  argu^ 
ments,  most  of  them,  might  have  been  couched 
in  sonnets  :  and  poetry  has  never  soared  higher 
than  in  the  Timasus  and  the  Phaedrus.  As  the 
poet,  too,  he  is  only  contemplative.  He  did 
not,  like  Pythagoras,  break  himself  with  an  in 
stitution.  All  his  painting  in  the  Republic 
must  be  esteemed  mythical,  with  intent  to 
bring  out,  sometimes  in  violent  colors,  his 
thought.  You  cannot  institute,  without  peril 
of  charlatan. 

It  was  a  high  scheme,  his  absolute  privilege 
for  the  best  (which,  to  make  emphatic,  he  ex 
pressed  by  community  of  women),  as  the  pre 
mium  which  he  would  set  on  grandeur.  There 
shall  be  exempts  of  two  kinds :  first,  those 
who  by  demerit  have  put  themselves  below 
protection, — outlaws  ;  and  secondly,  those  who 
by  eminence  of  nature  and  desert  are  out  of 
the  reach  of  your  rewards  :  let  such  be  free  of 
the  city,  and  above  the  law.  We  confide  them 
to  themselves  ;  let  them  do  with  us  as  they 
will.  Let  none  presume  to  measure  the  irreg 
ularities  of  Michel  Angelo  and  Socrates  by 
village  scales. 

In  his  eighth  book  of  the  Republic,  he 
throws  a  little  mathematical  dust  in  our  eyes. 
I  am  sorry  to  see  him,  after  such  noble  supe- 


88  TKcpreaentativc  /Hben 


riorities,  permitting  the  lie  to  governors.  Plato 
plays  Providence  a  little  with  the  baser  sort, 
as  people  allow  themselves  with  their  dogs  and 
cats. 


SWEDENBORG  ;  OR,  THE  MYSTIC* 


III. 
Swedenborg ;  or,  The  Mystic. 


AMONG  eminent  persons,  those  who  are  most 
dear  to  men  are  not  the  class  which  the  econ 
omist  calls  producers  ;  they  have  nothing  in 
their  hands;  they  have  not  cultivated  corn, 
nor  made  bread ;  they  have  not  led  out  a 
colony,  nor  invented  a  loom.  A  higher  class, 
in  the  estimation  and  love  of  this  city-building-, 
market-going  race  of  mankind,  are  the  poets, 
who,  from  the  intellectual  kingdom,  feed  the 
thought  and  imagination  with  ideas  and  pict 
ures  which  raise  men  out  of  the  world  of  corn 
and  money,  and  console  them  for  the  short 
comings  of  the  day,  and  the  meannesses  of  labor 
and  traffic.  Then,  also,  the  philosopher  has  his 
value,  who  flatters  the  intellect  of  this  laborer, 
by  engaging  him  with  subtleties  which  instruct 
him  in  new  faculties.  Others  may  build  cities  ; 
he  is  to  understand  them,  and  keep  them  in 
awe.  But  there  is  a  class  who  lead  us  into 
another  region, — the  world  of  morals,  or  of 

91 


92  IRepresentative 


will.  What  is  singular  about  this  region  of 
thought,  is,  its  claim.  Wherever  the  sentiment 
of  right  comes  in,  it  takes  precedence  of  every 
thing  else.  For  other  things,  I  make  poetry 
of  them ;  but  the  moral  sentiment  makes 
poetry  of  me. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that  he  would 
render  the  greatest  service  to  modern  criticism, 
who  shall  draw  the  line  of  relation  that  sub 
sists  between  Shakspeare  and  Swedenborg. 
The  human  mind  stands  ever  in  perplexity, 
demanding  intellect,  demanding  sanctity,  im 
patient  equally  of  each  without  the  other. 
The  reconciler  has  not  yet  appeared.  If  we 
tire  of  the  saints,  Shakspeare  is  our  city  of 
refuge.  Yet  the  instincts  presently  teach,  that 
the  problem  of  essence  must  take  precedence 
of  all  others, — the  questions  of  Whence? 
What  ?  and  Whither  ?  and  the  solution  of 
these  must  be  in  a  life,  and  not  in  a  book.  A 
drama  or  poem  is  a  proximate  or  oblique  reply ; 
but  Moses,  Menu,  Jesus,  work  directly  on  this 
problem.  The  atmosphere  of  moral  sentiment 
is  a  region  of  grandeur  which  reduces  all 
material  magnificence  to  toys,  yet  opens  to 
every  wretch  that  has  reason  the  doors  of  the 
universe.  Almost  with  a  fierce  haste  it  lays 
its  empire  on  the  man.  In  the  language  of 
the  Koran,  "  God  said,  the  heaven  and  the 
earth,  and  all  that  is  between  them,  think  ye 
that  we  created  them  in  jest,  and  that  ye  shall 
not  return  to  us  ? "  It  is  the  kingdom  of  the 


SweOenborg ;  or,  tTbe  fl&E0ttc.        93 


will,  and  by  inspiring  the  will,  which  .s  the 
seat  of  personality,  seems  to  convert  the 
universe  into  a  person  : — 

"  The  realms  of  being  to  no  other  bow, 
Not  only  all  are  thine,  but  all  are  Thou." 

All  men  are  commanded  by  the  saint.  The 
Koran  makes  a  distinct  class  of  those  who  are 
by  nature  good,  and  whose  goodness  has  an 
influence  on  others,  and  pronounces  this  class 
to  be  the  aim  of  creation :  the  other  classes 
are  admitted  to  the  feast  ot  being,  only  as 
following  in  the  train  of  this.  And  the  Per 
sian  poet  exclaims  to  a  soul  of  this  kind : 

"  Go  boldly  forth,  and  feast  on  being's  banquet ; 
Thou  art  the  called,— the  rest  admitted  with  thee." 

The  privilege  of  this  caste  is  an  access  to  the 
secrets  and  structure  of  nature,  by  some  higher 
method  than  by  experience.  In  common  par 
lance,  what  one  man  is  said  to  learn  by  ex 
perience,  a  man  of  extraordinary  sagacity  is 
said,  without  experience,  to  divine.  The 
Arabians  say,  that  Abul  Khain,  the  mystic, 
and  Abu  Ali  Seena,  the  Philosopher,  conferred 
together ;  and,  on  parting,  the  philosopher 
said,  "All  that  he  sees,  I  know;"  and  the 
mystic  said,  "  All  that  he  knows,  I  see."  If 
one  should  ask  the  reason  of  this  intuition,  the 
solution  would  lead  us  into  that  property  which 
Plato  denoted  as  Reminiscence,  and  which  is 
implied  by  the  Bramins  in  the  tenet  of  Trans- 


94  "Representative  fben 


migration.  The  soul  having  been  often  born, 
or,  as  the  Hindoos  say,  "  travelling  the  path 
of  existence  through  thousands  of  births," 
having  beheld  the  things  which  are  here,  those 
which  are  in  heaven,  and  those  which  are 
beneath,  there  is  nothing  of  which  she  has  not 
gained  the  knowledge :  no  wonder  that  she  is 
able  to  recollect,  in  regard  to  any  one  thing, 
what  formerly  she  knew.  "  For,  all  things  in 
nature  being  linked  and  related,  and  the  soul 
having  heretofore  known  all,  nothing  hinders 
but  that  any  man  who  has  recalled  to  mind, 
or,  according  to  the  common  phrase,  has 
learned  one  thing  only,  should  of  himself  re 
cover  all  his  ancient  knowledge,  and  find  out 
again  all  the  rest,  if  he  have  but  courage,  and 
faint  not  in  the  midst  of  his  researches.  For 
inquiry  and  learning  is  reminiscence  all." 
How  much  more,  if  he  that  inquires  be  a  holy 
and  godlike  soul !  For,  by  being  assimilated 
to  the  original  soul,  by  whom,  and  after  whom, 
all  things  subsist,  the  soul  of  man  does  then 
easily  flow  into  all  things,  and  all  things  flow 
into  it :  they  mix  ;  and  he  is  present  and  sym 
pathetic  with  their  structure  and  law. 

This  path  is  difficult,  secret,  and  beset  with 
terror.  The  ancients  called  it  ecstasy  or 
absence, — a  getting  out  of  their  bodies  to 
think.  All  religious  history  contains  traces  of 
the  trance  of  saints, — a  beatitude,  but  without 
any  sign  of  joy,  earnest,  solitary,  even  sad ; 
"  the  flight,"  P-lotinus  called  it,  "  of  the  alone  to 


Swe&enborg ;  or,  Gbe  flBEStfc.         95 


the  alone  ;  "  Mve<ru,  the  closing  of  the  eyes, — 
whence  our  word,  Mystic.  The  trances  of 
Socrates,  Plotinus,  Porphyry,  Behmen,  Bunyan, 
Fox,  Pascal,  Guion,  Swedenborg,  will  readily 
come  to  mind.  But  what  as  readily  comes  to 
mind,  is,  the  accompaniment  of  disease.  This 
beatitude  comes  in  terror,  and  with  shocks  to 
the  mind  of  the  receiver.  "  It  o'erinforms 
the  tenement  of  clay/'  and  drives  the  man 
mad  ;  or,  gives  a  certain  violent  bias,  which 
taints  his  judgment.  In  the  chief  examples 
of  religious  illumination,  somewhat  morbid 
has  mingled,  in  spite  of  the  unquestionable 
increase  of  mental  power.  Must  the  highest 
good  drag  after  it  a  quality  which  neutralizes 
and  discredits  it  ? — 

"  Indeed  it  takes 

From  our  achievements,  when  performed  at  height, 
The  pith  and  marrow  of  our  attribute." 

Shall  we  say,  that  the  economical  mother  dis 
burses  so  much  earth  and  so  much  fire,  by 
weight  and  metre,  to  make  a  man,  and  will 
not  add  a  pennyweight,  though  a  nation  is 
perishing  for  a  leader  ?  Therefore,  the  men 
of  God  purchased  their  science  by  folly  or 
pain.  If  you  will  have  pure  carbon,  carbuncle, 
or  diamond,  to  make  the  brain  transparent, 
the  trunk  and  organs  shall  be  so  much  the 
grosser :  instead  of  porcelain,  they  are  potter's 
earth,  clay,  or  mud. 

In  modern  times,  no  such  remarkable  ex- 


96  'Representative  /Ben 


ample  of  this  introverted  mind  has  occurred, 
as  in  Emanuel  Swedenborg,  born  in  Stock 
holm,  in  1688.  This  man,  who  appeared  to 
his  contemporaries  a  visionary,  and  elixir  of 
moonbeams,  no  doubt  led  the  most  real  life  of 
any  man  then  in  the  world :  and  now,  when 
the  royal  and  ducal  Frederics,  Cristierns,  and 
Brunswicks,  of  that  day,  have  slid  into 
oblivion,  he  begins  to  spread  himself  into  the 
minds  of  thousands.  As  happens  in  great 
men,  he  seemed,  by  the  variety  and  amount  of 
his  powers,  to  be  a  composition  of  several 
persons, — like  the  giant  fruits  which  are 
matured  in  gardens  by  the  union  of  four  or 
five  single  blossoms.  His  frame  is  on  a  larger 
scale,  and  possesses  the  advantage  of  size. 
As  it  is  easier  to  see  the  reflection  of  the  great 
sphere  in  large  globes,  though  defaced  by  some 
crack  or  blemish,  than  in  drops  of  water,  so 
men  of  large  calibre,  though  with  some  eccen 
tricity  or  madness,  like  Pascal  or  Newton, 
help  us  more  than  balanced  mediocre  minds. 
His  youth  and  training  could  not  fail  to 
be  extraordinary.  Such  a  boy  could  not 
whistle  or  dance,  but  goes  grubbing  into 
mines  and  mountains,  prying  into  chemistry 
and  optics,  physiology,  mathematics,  and  as 
tronomy,  to  find  images  fit  for  the  measure  of 
his  versatile  and  capacious  brain.  He  was  a 
scholar  from  a  child,  and  was  educated  at 
Upsala.  At  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  he  was 
made  Assessor  of  the  Board  of  Mines,  bj 


Swe&cnbora ;  or,  tTbe  fbystic.        97 


Charles  XII.  In  1716,  he  left  home  for  four 
years,  and,  visited  the  universities  of  England, 
Holland,  France,  and  Germany.  He  per 
formed  a  notable  feat  of  engineering  in  1718, 
at  the  siege  of  Fredericshall,  by  hauling  two 
galleys,  five  boats,  and  a 'sloop,  some  fourteen 
English  miles  overland,  for  the  royal  service. 
In  1721,  he  journeyed  over  Europe,  to  ex 
amine  mines  and  smelting  works.  He  pub 
lished,  in  1716,  his  Daedalus  Hyperboreus, 
and,  from  this  time,  for  the  next  thirty  years, 
was  employed  in  the  composition  and  publica 
tion  of  his  scientific  works.  With  the  like 
force,  he  threw  himself  into  theology.  In 
1743,  when  he  was  fifty-four  years  old,  what 
is  called  his  illumination  began.  All  his  met 
allurgy,  and  transportation  of  ships  overland, 
was  absorbed  into  this  ecstasy.  He  ceased  to 
publish  any  more  scientific  books,  withdrew 
from  his  practical  labors,  and  devoted  himself 
to  the  writing  and  publication  of  his  volumi 
nous  theological  works,  which  were  printed  at 
his  own  expense,  or  at  that  of  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  or  other  prince,  at  Dresden,  Leipsic, 
London,  or  Amsterdam.  Later,  he  resigned 
his  office  of  Assessor :  the  salary  attached 
t<?  this  office  continued  to  be  paid  to  him 
during  his  life.  His  duties  had  brought  him 
into  intimate  acquaintance  with  King  Charles 
XII.,  by  whom  he  was  much  consulted  and 
honored.  The  like  favor  was  continued  to 
him,  by  his  successor.  At  the  Diet  of  1751, 
1 


98  TRcprcscntatlve  Men 


Count  Hopken  says,  the  most  solid  memorials 
on  finance  were  from  his  pen.  In  Sweden, 
he  appears  to  have  attracted  a  marked  regard. 
His  rare  science  and  practical  skill,  and  the 
added  fame  of  second  sight  and  extraordinary 
religious  knowledge  and  gifts,  drew  to  him 
queens,  nobles,  clergy,  shipmasters,  and  peo 
ple  about  the  ports  through  which  he  was 
wont  to  pass  in  his  many  voyages.  The 
clergy  interfered  a  little  with  the  importation 
and  publication  of  his  religious  works  ;  but  he 
seems  to  have  kept  the  friendship  of  men  in 
power.  He  was  never  married.  He  had 
great  modesty  and  gentleness  of  bearing. 
His  habits  were  simple ;  he  lived  on  bread, 
milk,  and  vegetables  ;  and  he  lived  in  a  house 
situated  in  a  large  garden :  he  went  several 
times  to  England,  where  he  does  not  seem  to 
have  attracted  any  attention  whatever  from  the 
learned  or  the  eminent ;  and  died  at  London, 
March  29,  1772,  of  apoplexy,  in  his  eighty- 
fifth  year.  He  is  described,  when  in  London, 
as  a  man  of  quiet,  clerical  habit,  not  averse  to 
tea  and  coffee,  and  kind  to  children.  He 
wore  a  sword  when  in  full  velvet  dress,  and, 
whenever  he  walked  out,  carried  a  gold-headed 
cane.  There  is  a  common  portrait  of  him  in 
antique  coat  and  wig,  but  the  face  has  a  wan 
dering  or  vacant  air. 

The  genius  which  was  to  penetrate  the 
science  of  the  age  with  a  far  more  subtle 
science  ;  to  pass  the  bounds  of  space  and  time ; 


Swefcenborg  j  or,  tFbe  favstic         99 

venture  into  the  dim  spirit-realm,  and  attempt 
to  establish  a  new  religion  in  the  world, — be 
gan  its  lessons  in  quarries  and  forges,  in  the 
smelting-pot  and  crucible,  in  ship-yards  and 
dissecting-rooms.  No  one  man  is  perhaps 
able  to  judge  of  the  merits  of  his  works  on  so 
many  subjects.  One  is  glad  to  learn  that  his 
books  on  mines  and  metals  are  held  in  the 
highest  esteem  by  those  who  understand  these 
matters.  It  seems  that  he  anticipated  much 
science  of  the  nineteenth  century  ;  anticipated, 
in  astronomy,  the  discovery  of  the  seventh 
planet, — but,  unhappily,  not  also  of  the  eighth  ; 
anticipated  the  views  of  modern  astronomy  in 
regard  to  the  generation  of  earth  by  the  sun ; 
in  magnetism,  some  important  experiments  and 
conclusions  of  later  students ;  in  chemistry, 
the  atomic  theory  ;  in  anatomy,  the  discoveries 
of  Schlichting,  Monro,  and  Wilson  ;  and  first 
demonstrated  the  office  of  the  lungs.  His 
excellent  English  editor  magnanimously  lays 
no  stress  on  his  discoveries,  since  he  was  too 
great  to  care  to  be  original ;  and  we  are  to 
judge,  by  what  he  can  spare,  of  what  remains. 
A  colossal  soul,  he  lies  vast  abroad  on  his 
times,  uncomprehended  by  them,  and  requires 
a  long  local  distance  to  be  seen  ;  suggest,  a3 
Aristotle,  Bacon,  Selden,  Humboldt,  that  a 
certain  vastness  of  learning,  or  quasi  omnipres 
ence  of  the  human  soul  in  nature,  is  possible. 
His  superb  speculation,  as  from  a  tower,  over 
nature  and  arts,  without  ever  losing  sight  of 


'Representative 


the  texture  and  sequence  of  things,  almost  real 
izes  his  own  picture,  in  the  "  Principia,"  of  the 
original  integrity  of  man.  Over  and  above 
the  merit  of  his  particular  discoveries,  is  the 
capital  merit  of  his  self-equality.  A  drop  of 
water  has  the  properties  of  the  sea,  but  can 
not  exhibit  a  storm.  There  is  beauty  of  a 
concert,  as  well  as  of  a  flute  ;  strength  of  a 
host,  as  well  as  of  a  hero  ;  and,  in  Sweden- 
borg,  those  who  are  best  acquainted  with  mod 
ern  books  will  most  admire  the  merit  of  mass. 
One  of  the  missouriums  and  mastodons  of 
literature,  he  is  not  to  be  measured  by  whole 
colleges  of  ordinary  scholars.  His  stalwart 
presence  would  flutter  the  gowns  of  an  univer 
sity.  Our  books  are  false  by  being  fragment 
ary;  their  sentences  are  ban  mots,  and  not 
parts  of  natural  discourse  ;  childish  expres 
sions  of  surprise  or  pleasure  in  nature  ;  or, 
worse,  owing  a  brief  notoriety  to  their  petu 
lance,  or  aversion  from  the  order  of  nature,  — 
being  some  curiosity  or  oddity,  designedly  not 
in  harmony  with  nature,  and  purposely  framed 
to  excite  surprise,  as  jugglers  do  by  conceal 
ing  their  means.  But  Swedenborg  is  system 
atic,  and  respective  of  the  world  in  every  sen 
tence  ;  all  the  means  are  orderly  given  ;  his 
faculties  work  with  astronomic  punctuality,  and 
this  admirable  writing  is  pure  from  all  pert- 
ness  or  egotism. 

Swedenborg  was  born  into  an   atmosphere 
of  great  ideas.     'Tis  hard  to  say  what  was  his 


Swefcenborg  ;  or,  £be  £B$8tic        101 


own  :  yet  his  life  was  dignified  by  noblest  pict 
ures  of  the  universe.  'Hie  robust  Aristotelian 
method,  with  its  breadth  and  adequatenass, 
shaming  our  sterile  and  linear  logic  by  its 
genial  radiation,  conversant  with  series  and 
degree,  with  effects  and  ends,  skilful  to  dis 
criminate  power  from  form,  essence  from  acci 
dent,  and  opening  by  its  terminology  and  defi 
nition,  high  roads  into  nature,  had  trained  a 
race  of  athletic  philosophers.  Harvey  had 
shown  the  circulation  of  the  blood  :  Gilbert 
had  shown  that  the  earth  was  a  magnet :  Des 
cartes,  taught  by  Gilbert's  magnet,  with  its 
vortex,  spiral,  and  polarity,  had  filled  Europe 
with  the  leading  thought  of  vortical  motion,  as 
the  secret  of  nature.  Newton,  in  the  year  in 
which  Swedenborg  was  born,  published  the 
"  Principia,"  and  established  the  universal 
gravity.  Malpighi,  following  the  high  doc 
trines  of  Hippocrates,  Leucippus,  and  Lucre 
tius,  had  given  emphasis  to  the  dogma  that 
nature  works  in  leasts, — "  tota  in  minimis 
existit  natura."  Unrivalled  dissectors,  Swam- 
merdam,  Leeuwenhoek,  Winslow,  Eustachius, 
Heister,  Vesalius,  Boerhaave,  had  left  nothing 
for  scalpel  or  microscope  to  reveal  in  human 
or  comparative  anatomy  :  Linnaeus,  his  con 
temporary,  was  affirming,  in  his  beautiful 
science,  that  "  Nature  is  always  like  herself  :  " 
and,  lastly,  the  nobility  of  method,  the  largest 
application  of  principles,  had  been  exhibited 
by  Leibnitz  and  Christian  Wolff,  in  cosmology; 


102  "Representative 


whilst  Locke  and  Grotius  had  drawn  the  moral 
argument.  What  was  left  for  a  genius  of  the 
largest  calibre,  but  to  go  over  their  ground, 
and  verify  and  unite?  It  is  easy  to  see,  in 
these  minds,  the  original  of  Swedenhorg's 
studies,  and  the  suggestion  of  his  problems. 
He  had  a  capacity  to  entertain  and  vivify  these 
volumes  of  thought.  Yet  the  proximity  of 
these  geniuses,  one  or  other  of  whom  had  in 
troduced  all  his  leading  ideas,  makes  Sweden- 
borg  another  example  of  the  difficulty,  even  in 
a  highly  fertile  genius,  of  proving  originality, 
the  first  birth  and  annunciation  of  one  of  the 
laws  of  nature. 

He  named  his  favorite  views,  the  doctrine 
of  Forms,  the  doctrine  of  Series  and  Degrees, 
the  doctrine  of  Influx,  the  doctrine  of  Corre 
spondence.  His  statement  of  these  doctrines 
deserves  to  be  studied  in  his  books.  Not 
every  man  can  read  them,  but  they  will  reward 
him  who  can.  His  theologic  works  are  valu 
able  to  illustrate  these.  His  writings  would  be 
a  sufficient  library  to  a  lonely  and  athletic 
student  ;  and  the  "  Economy  of  the  Animal 
Kingdom  "  is  one  of  those  books  which,  by 
the  sustained  dignity  of  thinking,  is  an  honor 
to  the  human  race.  He  had  studied  spars 
and  metals  to  some  purpose.  His  varied  and 
solid  knowledge  makes  his  style  lustrous  with 
points  and  shooting  spicula  of  thought,  and 
resembling  one  of  those  winter  mornings  when 
the  air  sparkles  with  crystals.  The  grandeus 


SweDcnborg ;  or,  Gbe  /tootle        103 


of  the  topics  makes  the  grandeur  of  the  style. 
He  was  apt  for  cosmology,  because  of  that 
native  perception  of  identity  which  made  mere 
size  of  no  account  to  him.  In  the  atom  of 
magnetic  iron,  he  saw  the  quality  which 
would  generate  the  spiral  motion  of  sun  and 
planet. 

The  thoughts  in  which  he  lived  were,  the 
universality  of  each  law  in  nature ;  the  Pla 
tonic  doctrine  of  the  scale  or  degrees;  the 
version  or  conversion  of  each  into  other,  and 
so  the  correspondence  of  all  the  parts  ;  the 
fine  secret  that  little  explains  large,  and  large", 
little ;  the  centrality  of  man  in  nature,  and  the 
connection  that  subsists  throughout  all  things: 
he  saw  that  the  human  body  was  strictly  unr 
versal,  or  an  instrument  through  which  the 
soul  feeds  and  is  fed  by  the  whole  of  matter  : 
so  that  he  held,  in  exact  antagonism  to  the 
skeptics,  that,  "  the  wiser  a  man  is,  the  more  will 
he  be  a  worshipper  of  the  Deity."  In  short, 
he  was  a  believer  in  the  Identity-philosophy, 
which  he  held  not  idly,  as  the  dreamers  of  Berlin 
or  Boston,  but  which  he  experimented  with 
and  stablished  through  years  of  labor,  with  the 
heart  and  strength  of  the  rudest  Viking  that 
his  rough  Sweden  ever  sent  to  battle. 

This  theory  dates  from  the  oldest  philoso 
phers,  and  derives  perhaps  its  best  illustration 
from  the  newest.  It  is  this  :  that  nature  iter 
ates  her  means  perpetually  on  successive 
planes.  In  the  old  aphorism,  nature  is  at- 


104  Representative  /Ren 


ways  self-similar.  In  the  plant,  the  eye  or 
germinative  point  opens  to  a  leaf,  then  to  an 
other  leaf,  with  a  power  of  transforming  the 
leaf  into  radicle,  stamen,  pistil,  petal,  bract, 
sepal,  or  seed.  The  whole  art  of  the  plant  is 
still  to  repeat  leaf  on  leaf  without  end,  the 
jnore  or  less  of  heat,  light,  moisture,  and  food, 
determining  the  form  it  shall  assume.  In  the 
animal,  nature  makes  a  vertebra,  or  a  spine  of 
vertebrae,  and  helps  herself  still  by  a  new 
spine,  with  a  limited  power  of  modifying  its 
form, — spine  on  spine,  to  the  end  of  the  world. 
A  poetic  anatomist,  in  our  own  day,  teaches 
that  a  snake,  being  a  horizontal  line,  and  man, 
being  an  erect  line,  constitute  a  right  angle ; 
and,  between  the  lines  of  this  mystical  quad 
rant,  all  animated  beings  find  their  place  ;  and 
he  assumes  the  hair-worm,  the  span-worm,  or 
the  snake,  as  the  type  or  prediction  of  the 
spine.  Manifestly,  at  the  end  of  the  spine, 
nature. puts  out  smaller  spines,  as  arms;  at 
the  end  of  the  arms,  new  spines,  as  hands ;  at 
the  other  end,  she  repeats  the  process,  as  legs 
and  feet.  At  the  top  of  the  column,  she  puts 
out  another  spine,  which  doubles  or  loops 
itself  over,  as  a  span-worm,  into  a  ball,  and 
forms  the  skull,  with  extremities  again ;  the 
hands  being  now  the  upper  jaw,  the  feet  the 
lower  jaw,  the  fingers  and  toes  being  repre 
sented  this  time  by  upper  and  lower  teeth. 
This  new  spine  is  destined  to  high  uses.  It  is 
a  new  man  on  the  shoulders  of  the  last.  It 


SwcDcnbors ;  or,  ftbe  ^Bgstic        105 


can  almost  shed  its  trunk,  and  manage  to  live 
alone,  according  to  the  Platonic  idea  in  the 
Timaeus.  Within  it,  on  a  higher  plane,  all  that 
was  done  in  the  trunk  repeats  itself.  Nature 
recites  her  lesson  once  more  in  a  higher  mood. 
The  mind  is  a  finer  body,  and  resumes  its 
functions  of  feeding,  digesting,  absorbing,  ex 
cluding,  and  generating,  in  a  new  and  ethereal 
element.  Here,  in  the  brain,  is  all  the  process 
of  alimentation  repeated,  in  the  acquiring, 
comparing,  digesting,  and  assimilating  of  ex 
perience.  Here  again  is  the  mystery  of  gen 
eration  repeated.  In  the  brain  are  male  and 
female  faculties  ;  here  is  marriage,  here  is  fruit. 
And  there  is  no  limit  to  this  ascending  scale, 
but  series  on  series.  Everything,  at  the  end 
of  one  use,  is  taken  up  into  the  next,  each 
series  punctually  repeating  every  organ  and 
process  of  the  last.  We  are  adapted  to  in 
finity.  We  are  hard  to  please,  and  love  noth 
ing  which  ends;  and  in  nature  is  no  end; 
but  everything,  at  the  end  of  one  use,  is 
lifted  into  a  superior,  and  the  ascent  of  these 
things  climbs  into  daemonic  and  celestial 
natures.  Creative  force,  like  a  musical  com 
poser,  goes  on  unweariedly  repeating  a  simple 
air  or  theme,  now  high,  now  low.  in  solo,  in 
chorus,  ten  thousand  times  reverberated,  till  it 
fills  earth  and  heaven  with  the  chant. 

Gravitation,  as  explained  by  Newton,  is 
good,  but  grander,  when  we  find  chemistry 
only  an  extension  of  the  law  of  masses  into 


io6  "Representative  flhen 


particles,  and  that  the  atomic  theory  shows  the 
action  of  chemistry  to  be  mechanical  also. 
Metaphysics  shows  us  a  sort  of  gravitation, 
operative  also  in  the  mental  phenomena ;  and 
the  terrible  tabulation  of  the  French  statists 
brings  every  piece  of  whim  and  humor  to  be 
reducible  also  to  exact  numerical  rations.  If 
one  man  in  twenty  thousand,  or  in  thirty  thou 
sand,  eats  shoes,  or  marries  his  grandmother, 
then,  in  every  twenty  thousand,  or  thirty 
thousand,  is  found  one  man  who  eats  shoes, 
or  marries  his  grandmother.  What  we  call 
gravitation,  and  fancy  ultimate,  is  one  fork  of 
a  mightier  stream,  for  which  we  have  yet  no 
name.  Astronomy  is  excellent ;  but  it  must 
come  up  into  life  to  have  its  full  value,  and 
not  remain  there  in  globes  and  spaces.  The 
globule  of  blood  gyrates  around  its  own  axis  in 
the  human  veins,  as  the  planet  in  the  sky ; 
and  the  circles  of  intellect  relate  to  those  of 
the  heavens.  Each  law  of  nature  has  the  like 
universality ;  eating,  sleep  or  hibernation, 
rotation,  generation,  metamorphosis,  vortical 
motion,  which  is  seen  in  eggs  as  in  planets, 
these  grand  rhymes  or  returns  in  nature, — the 
dear,  best-known  face  startling  us  at  every  turn, 
under  a  mask  so  unexpected  that  we  think  it 
the  face  of  a  stranger,  and,  carrying  up  the 
semblance  into  divine  forms, — delighted  the 
prophetic  eye  of  Swedenborg ;  and  he  must  b* 
reckoned  a  leader  in  that  revolution,  which,  by 
giving  to  science  an  idea,  has  given  to  an  airo* 


SvveDcr.bovg ;  or,  abe  d&ssttc        107 


less  accumulation  of  experiments,  guidance 
and  form,  and  a  beating  heart. 

I  own,  with  some  regret,  that  his  printed 
works  amount  to  about  fifty  stout  octaves,  his 
scientific  works  being  about  half  of  the  whole 
number  ;  and  it  appears  that  a  mass  of  manu 
script  still  unedited  remains  in  the  royal 
library  at  Stockholm.  The  scientific  works 
have  just  now  been  translated  into  English,  in 
an  excellent  edition. 

Swedenborg  printed  these  scientific  books 
in  the  ten  years  from  1734  to  1744,  and 
they  remained  from  that  time  neglected  :  and 
now,  after  their  century  is  complete,  he  has  at 
last  found  a  pupil  in  Mr.  Wilkinson,  in  Lon 
don,  a  philosophic  critic,  with  a  coequal  vigor 
of  understanding  and  imagination  comparable 
only  to  Lord  Bacon's,  who  has  produced  his 
master's  buried  books  to  the  day,  and  trans 
ferred  them,  with  every  advantage,  from  their 
forgotten  Latin  into  English,  to  go  round  the 
world  in  our  commercial  and  conquering 
tongue.  This  startling  reappearance  of 
Swedenborg,  after  a  hundred  years,  in  his 
pupil,  is  not  the  least  remarkable  fact  in  his  his 
tory.  Aided,  it  is  said,  by  the  munificence  of 
Mr.  Clissold,  and  also  by  his  literary  skill,  this 
piece  of  poetic  justice  is  done.  The  admirable 
preliminary  discourses  with  which  Mr.  Wilkin 
son  has  enriched  these  volumes,  throw  all  the 
contemporary  philosophy  of  England  into 
shade,  and  leave  mo  nothing  to  say  on  their 
proper  grounds. 


io8  "Representative  /fcen 


The  "  Animal  Kingdom  "  is  a  book  of  won- 
derful  merits.  It  was  written  with  the  highest 
end, — to  put  science  and  the  soul,  long 
estranged  from  each  other,  at  one  again.  It 
was  an  anatomist's  account  of  the  human  body, 
in  the  highest  style  of  poetry.  Nothing  can  ex 
ceed  the  bold  and  brilliant  treatment  of  a  sub 
ject  usually  so  dry  and  repulsive.  He  saw 
nature  "  wreathing  through  an  everlasting 
spiral,  with  wheels  that  never  dry,  on  axles 
that  never  creak,"  and  sometimes  sought  "to 
uncover  those  secret  recess  is  where  nature  is 
sitting  at  the  fires  in  the  depths  of  her  labora 
tory  ;  "  whilst  the  picture  comes  recommended 
by  the  hard  fidelity  with  which  it  is  based  on 
practical  anatomy.  It  is  remarkable  that  this 
sublime  genius  decides,  peremptorily  for  the 
analytic,  against  the  synthetic  method ;  and, 
in  a  book  whose  genius  is  a  daring  poetic 
synthesis,  claims  to  confine  himself  to  a  rigid 
experience. 

He  knows,  if  he  only,  the  flowing  of  nature 
and  how  wise  was  that  old  answer  of  Amasis 
to  him  who  bade  him  drink  up  the  sea, — "  Yes, 
willingly,  if  you  will  stop  the  rivers  that  flow 
in."  Few  knew  as  much  about  nature  and  her 
subtle  manners,  or  expressed  more  subtly  her 
goings.  Hfj  thought  as  large  a  demand  is 
made  on  our  faith  by  nature,  as  by  miracles. 
"  He  noted  that  in  her  proceeding  from  first 
principles  through  her  several  subordinations, 
there  was  no  state  through  which  she  did  not 


Swe&enborg  ;  or,  tTbe  /Bgstic        109 


pass,  as  if  her  path  lay  through  all  things." 
"  For  as  often  as  she  betakes  herself  upward 
from  visible  phenomena,  or,  in  other  words, 
withdraws  herself  inward,  she  instantly,  as  it 
were,  disappears,  while  no  one  knows  what 
has  become  of  her,  or  whither  she  is  gone  :  so 
that  it  is  necessary  to  take  science  as  a  guide 
in  pursuing  her  steps." 

The  pursuing  the  inquiry  under  the  light  of 
an  end  or  final  cause,  gives  wonderful  anima 
tion,  a  sort  of  personality  to  the  whole  writing. 
This  book  announces  his  favorite  dogmas. 
The  ancient  doctrine  of  Hippocrates,  that  the 
brain  is  a  gland  ;  and  of  Leucippus,  that  the 
atom  may  be  known  by  the  mass  ;  or,  in  Plato, 
the  macrocosm  by  the  microcosm  ;  and,  in  the 
verses  of  Lucretius, — • 

Ossa  videlicet  e  pauxillis  atque  minutis 
Ossibus  sic  et  de  pauxillis  atque  minutis 
Visceribus  viscus  gigni,  sanguenque  creari 
Sanguinis  inter  se  multis  coeuntibus  guttis ; 
Ex  aurique  putat  micis  consistere  posse 
Aurum,  et  de  terns  terram  concrescere  parvis; 
Ignibus  ex  igneis,  humorem  humoribus  esse. 

LIB.  I.  835. 

"  The  princiole  of  all  things  entails  made 
Of  smallest  entrails ;  bone,  oFamallest  bone  , 
Blood,  of  small  sanguine  drops  reduced  to  one  ; 
Gold,  of  small  grains  ;  earth,  of  small  sands  compacted 
Small  drops  to  water,  sparks  to  fire  contracted : " 

and  which  Malpighi  had  summed  in  his  max 
im,  that  "  nature  exists  entirely  in  leasts," — 
is  a  favorite  thought  of  Swedenborg.  "  It  is  a 


no  "Representative  flken 


constant  law  of  the  organic  body,  that  large, 
compound,  or  visible  forms  exist  and  subsist 
from  smaller,  simpler,  and  ultimately  from  in 
visible  forms,  which  act  similarly  to  the  larger 
ones,  but  more  perfectly  and  more  universally, 
and  the  least  forms  so  perfectly  and  univer 
sally,  as  to  involve  an  idea  representative  of 
their  entire  universe."  The  unities  of  each 
organ  are  so  many  little  organs,  homogeneous 
with  their  compound  :  the  unities  of  the 
tongue  are  little  tongues  ;  those  of  the  stom 
ach,  little  stomachs  ;  those  of  the  heart  are 
little  hearts.  This  fruitful  idea  furnishes  a 
key  to  every  secret.  What  was  too  small  for 
the  eye  to  detect  was  read  by  the  aggregates ; 
what  was  too  large,  by  the  units.  There  is  no 
end  to  his  application  of  the  thought.  "  Hun 
ger  is  an  aggregate  of  very  many  little  hun 
gers,  or  losses  of  blood  by  the  little  veins  all 
over  the  body."  It  is  the  key  to  his  theology, 
also.  "  Man  is  a  kind  of  very  minute  heaven, 
corresponding  to  the  world  of  spirits  and  to 
heaven.  Every  particular  idea  of  man,  and 
every  affection,  yea,  every  smallest  spark  of  his 
affection,  is  an  image  and  effigy  of  him.  A 
spirit  may  be  known  from  only  a  single 
thought.  God  is  the  grand  man." 

The  hardihood  and  thoroughness  of  his 
study  of  nature  required  a  theory  of  forms, 
also.  "  Forms  ascend  in  order  from  the  low 
est  to  the  highest.  The  lowest  form  is  an 
gular,  or  the  terrestrial  and  corporeal.  The 


SweOenborg;  or,  Gbe  /Rustic. 


second  and  next  higher  form  is  the  circular, 
which  is  also  called  the  perpetual-angular,  be 
cause  the  circumference  of  a  circle  is  a  perpet 
ual  angle.  The  form  above  this  is  the  spiral, 
parent  and  measure  of  circular  forms  :  its  diam 
eters  are  not  rectilinear,  but  variously  cir 
cular,  and  have  a  spherical  surface  for  centre  ; 
therefore  it  is  called  the  perpetual-circular. 
The  form  above  this  is  the  vortical,  or  per 
petual-spiral  :  next,  the  perpetual-vortical,  or 
celestial :  last,  the  perpetual-celestial,  or  spir 
itual." 

Was  it  strange  that  a  genius  so  bold  should 
take  the  last  step,  also, — conceive  that  he 
might  attain  the  science  of  all  sciences,  to  un 
lock  the  meaning  of  the  world  ?  In  the  first 
volume  of  the  "  Animal  Kingdom,"  he 
broaches  the  subject,  in  a  remarkable  note. — 

"In  our  doctrine  of  Representations  and 
Correspondences,  we  shall  treat  of  both  these 
symbolical  and  typical  resemblances,  and  of  the 
astonishing  things  which  occur,  I  will  not  say, 
in  the  living  body  only,  but  throughout  nature, 
and  which  correspond  so  entirely  to  supreme 
and  spiritual  things,  that  one  would  swear  that 
the  physical  world  was  purely  symbolical  of 
the  spiritual  world  ;  insomuch,  that  if  we  choose 
to  express  any  natural  truth  in  physical  and 
definite  vocal  terms,  and  to  convert  these 
terms  only  into  the  corresponding  and  spirit 
ual  terms,  we  shall  by  this  means  elicit  a  spirit 
ual  truth,  or  theological  dogma,  in  place  of 


ix2  'Representative  flbcn. 


the  physical  truth  or  precept :  although  no 
mortal  would  have  predicted  that  anything  of 
the  kind  could  possibly  arise  by  bare  literal 
transposition  ;  inasmuch  as  the  one  precept, 
considered  separately  from  the  other,  appears 
to  have  absolutely  no  relation  to  it.  I  intend, 
hereafter,  to  communicate  a  number  of  exam 
ples  of  such  correspondences,  together  with  a 
vocabulary  containing  the  terms  of  spiritual 
things,  as  well  as  of  the  physical  things  for 
which  they  are  to  be  substituted.  This  sym 
bolism  pervades  the  living  body." 

The  fact,  thus  explicitly  stated,  is  implied 
in  all  poetry,  in  allegory,  in  fable,  in  the  use 
of  emblems,  and  in  the  structure  of  language. 
Plato  knew  of  it,  as  is  evident  from  his  twice 
bisected  line,  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Repub 
lic.  Lord  Bacon  had  found  that  truth  and 
nature  differed  only  as  seal  and  print ;  and  he 
instanced  some  physical  proportions,  with 
their  translation  into  a  moral  and  political 
sense.  Behmen,  and  all  mystics,  imply  this 
law,  in  their  dark  riddle-writing.  The  poets, 
in  as  far  as  they  are  poets,  use  it ;  but  it  is 
known  to  them  only,  as  the  magnet  was  known 
for  ages,  as  a  toy.  Swendenborg  first  put 
the  fact  into  a  detached  and  scientific  state 
ment,  because  it  was  habitually  present  to  him, 
and  never  not  seen.  It  was  involved,  as  we 
explained  already,  in  the  doctrine  of  identity 
and  iteration,  because  the  mental  series  ex 
actly  tallies  with  the  material  series.  It  re- 


Swefcenbora ;  or,  £be  flb£8tic        1 13 


quired  an  insight  that  could  rank  things  in 
order  and  series  ;  or,  rather,  it  required  such 
Tightness  of  position,  that  the  poles  of  the 
eye  should  coincide  with  the  axis  of  the  world. 
The  earth  has  fed  its  mankind  through-  five 
or  six  millenniums,  and  they  had  sciences, 
religions,  philosophies  ;  and  yet  had  failed  to 
see  the  correspondence  of  meaning  between 
every  part  and  every  other  part.  And,  down 
to  this  hour,  literature  has  no  book  in  which 
the  symbolism  of  things  is  scientifically  opened. 
One  would  say,  that,  as  soon  as  men  had  the 
first  hint  that  every  sensible  object, — animal, 
rock,  river,  air, — nay,  space  and  time,  sub 
sists  not  for  itself,  nor  finally  to  a  material 
end,  but  as  a  picture-language,  to  tell  another 
story  of  beings  and  duties,  other  science  would 
be  put  by,  and  a  science  of  such  grand  presage 
would  absorb  all  faculties :  that  each  man 
would  ask  of  all  objects,  what  they  mean: 
Why  does  the  horizon  hold  me  fast,  with  my 
joy  and  grief,  in  this  centre  ?  Why  hear  I  the 
same  sense  from  countless  differing  voices, 
and  read  one  never  quite  expressed  fact  in  end 
less  picture-language  ?  Yet,  whether  it  be,  that 
these  things  will  not  be  intellectually  learned, 
or,  that  many  centuries  must  elaborate  and 
compose  so  rare  and  opulent  a  soul, — there  is 
no  comet,  rock-stratum,  fossil,  fish,  quadruped, 
spider,  or  fungus,  that,  for  itself,  does  not 
interest  more  scholars  and  classifiers,  than  the 
meaning  and  upshot  of  the  frame  of  things. 


ii4  "Representative 


But  Swedenborg  was  not  content  with  the 
culinary  use  of  the  world.  In  his  fifty-fourth 
year,  these  thoughts  held  him  fast,  and  his  pro 
found  mind  admitted  the  perilous  opinion,  too 
frequent  in  religious  history,  that  he  was  an 
abnormal  person,  to  whom  was  granted  the 
privilege  of  conversing  with  angels  and  spirits  ; 
and  this  ecstasy  connected  itself  with  just  this 
office  of  explaining  the  moral  import  of  the 
sensible  world.  To  a  right  perception,  at 
once  broad  and  minute,  of  the  order  of  nature, 
he  added  the  comprehension  of  the  moral 
laws  in  their  widest  social  aspects  ;  but  what 
ever  he  saw,  through  some  excessive  determin 
ation  to  form,  in  his  constitution,  he  saw  not 
abstractly,  but  in  pictures,  heard  it  in  dialogues, 
constructed  it  in  events.  When  he  attempted 
to  announce  the  law  most  sanely,  he  was 
forced  to  couch  it  in  parable. 

Modern  psychology  offers  no  similar  ex 
ample  of  a  deranged  balance.  The  principal 
powers  continued  to  maintain  a  healthy  action  ; 
and,  to  a  reader  who  can  make  due  allowance 
in  the  report  for  the  reporter's  peculiarities, 
the  results  are  still  instructive,  and  a  more 
striking  testimony  to  the  sublime  laws  he 
announced,  than  any  that  balanced  dulness 
could  afford.  He  attempts  to  give  some 
account  of  the  modus  of  the  new  state,  affirm 
ing  that  "  his  presence  in  the  spiritual  world 
is  attended  with  a  certain  separation,  but  only 
as  to  the  intellectual  part  of  his  mind,  not  as 


Swe&enborfl;  or,  Gbe  /iRgstfc        115 


to  the  will  part ; "  and  he  affirms  that  "  he 
sees,  with  the  internal  sight,  the  things  that 
are  in  another  life,  more  clearly  than  he  sees 
the  things  which  are  here  in  the  world." 

Having  adopted  the  belief  that  certain 
books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  were 
exact  allegories,  or  written  in  the  angelic  and 
ecstatic  mode,  he  employed  his  remaining 
years  in  extricating  from  the  literal,  the  universal 
sense.  He  had  borrowed  from  Plato  the  fine 
fable  of  "  a  most  ancient  people,  men  better 
than  we,  and  dwelling  nigher  to  the  gods  ; '' 
and  Swedenborg  added,  that  they  used  the 
earth  symbolically  ;  that  these,  when  they 
saw  terrestrial  objects,  did  not  think  at  all 
about  them,  but  only  about  those  which 
they  signified.  The  correspondence  between 
thoughts  and  things  henceforward  occupied 
him.  ''The  very  organic  form  resembles  the 
end  inscribed  on  it."  A  man  is  in  general, 
and  in  particular,  an  organized  justice  or  in 
justice,  selfishness  or  gratitude.  And  the 
cause  of  this  harmony  he  assigned  in  the 
Arcana :  "  The  reason  why  all  and  single 
things,  in  the  heavens  and  on  earth,  are  repre 
sentative,  is  because  they  exist  from  an  in 
flux  of  the  Lord,  through  heaven."  This  de 
sign  of  exhibiting  such  correspondences,  which, 
if  adequately  executed,  would  be  the  poem  of 
the  world,  in  which  all  history  and  science 
would  play  an  essential  part,  was  narrowed 
and  defeated  by  the  exclusively  theologic 


n6  "Representative  /Iben 


direction  which  his  inquiries  took.  His  per 
ception  of  nature  is  not  human  and  universal, 
but  is  mystical  and  Hebraic.  He  fastens  each 
natural  object  to  a  theologic  notion : — a  horse 
signifies  carnal  understanding;  a  tree,  per 
ception  ;  the  moon,  faith  ;  a  cat  means  this ; 
an  ostrich,  that;  an  artichoke,  this  other;  and 
poorly  tethers  every  symbol  to  a  several 
ecclesiastic  sense.  The  slippery  Proteus  is 
not  so  easily  caught.  In  nature,  each  indi 
vidual  symbol  plays  innumerable  parts,  as 
each  particle  of  matter  circulates  in  turn 
through  every  system.  The  central  identity 
enables  any  one  symbol  to  express  succes 
sively  all  the  qualities  and  shades  of  the 
real  being.  In  the  transmission  of  the 
heavenly  waters,  every  hose  fits  every  hydrant. 
Nature  avenges  herself  speedily  on  the  hard 
pedantry  that  would  chain  her  waves.  She 
is  no  literalist.  Everything  must  be  taken 
genially,  and  we  must  be  at  the  top  of  our 
condition,  to  understand  anything  rightly. 

His  theological  bias  thus  fatally  narrowed 
his  interpretation  of  nature,  and  the  dictionary 
of  symbols  is  yet  to  be  written.  But  the  in 
terpreter,  whom  mankind  must  still  expect,  will 
find  no  predecessor  who  has  approached  so 
near  to  the  true  problem. 

Swedenborg  styles  himself,  in  the  title-page 
of  his  books,  "  Servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;  "  and  by  force  of  intellect,  and  in 
effect,  he  is  the  last  Father  in  the  Church,  and 


Swe5>enborfl ;  or,  tTbc  /Rustic       117 


Is  not  likely  to  have  a  successor.  No  wonder 
that  his  depth  of  ethical  wisdom  should  give 
him  influence  as  a  teacher.  To  the  withered 
traditional  church  yielding  dry  catechisms,  he 
let  in  nature  again,  and  the  worshipper, 
escaping  from  the  vestry  of  verbs  and  texts,  is 
surprised  to  find  himself  a  party  to  the  whole 
of  his  religion.  His  religion  thinks  for  him, 
and  is  of  universal  application.  He  turns  it 
on  every  side  ;  it  fits  every  part  of  life,  in 
terprets  and  dignifies  every  circumstance. 
Instead  of  a  religion  which  visited  him  diplo 
matically  three  or  four  times, — when  he  was 
born,  when  he  married,  when  he  fell  sick,  and 
when  he  died,  and  for  the  rest  never  interfered 
with  him, — here  was  a  teaching  which  accom 
panied  him  all  day,  accompanied  him  even 
into  sleep  and  dreams  ;  into  his  thinking,  and 
showed  him  through  what  a  long  ancestry  his 
thoughts  descend  ;  into  society,  and  showed 
by  what  affinities  he  was  girt  to  his  equals  and 
his  counterparts ;  into  natural  objects,  and 
showed  their  origin  and  meaning,  what  are 
friendly,  and  what  are  hurtful ;  and  opened 
the  future  world,  by  indicating  the  continuity 
of  the  same  laws.  His  disciples  allege  that 
their  intellect  is  invigorated  by  the  study  of 
his  books. 

There  is  no  such  problem  for  criticism  as 
his  theological  writings,  their  merits  are  so 
commanding  ;  yet  such  grave  deductions  must 
be  made.  Their  immense  and  sandy  diffuse- 


n8  "Representative 


ness  is  like  the  prairie,  or  the  desert,  and  their 
incongruities  are  like  the  last  deliration.  He 
is  superfluously  explanatory,  and  his  feeling  of 
the  ignorance  of  men,  strangely  exaggerated. 
Men  take  truths  of  this  nature  very  fast.  Ye* 
he  abounds  in  assertions  :  he  is  a  rich  dis 
coverer,  and  of  things  which  most  import  us 
to  know.  His  thought  dwells  in  essential  re 
semblances,  like  the  resemblance  of  a  house 
to  the  man  who  built  it.  He  saw  things  in 
their  law,  in  likeness  of  function,  not  o£ 
structure.  There  is  an  invariable  method  and 
order  in  his  delivery  of  his  truth,  the  habitual 
proceeding  of  the  mind  from  inmost  to  out 
most.  What  earnestness  and  weightiness, — 
his  eye  never  roving,  without  one  swell  of 
vanity,  or  one  look  to  self,  in  any  common 
form  of  literary  pride  !  a  theoretic  or  specu 
lative  man,  but  whom  no  practical  man  in  the 
universe  could  affect  to  scorn.  Plato  is  a 
gownsman  :  his  garment,  though  of  purple, 
and  almost  skywoven,  is  an  academic  robe, 
and  hinders  action  with  its  voluminous  folds. 
But  this  mystic  is  awful  to  Caesar.  Lycurgus 
himself  would  bow. 

The  moral  insight  of  Swedenborg,  the 
correction  of  popular  errors,  the  announcmenv 
of  ethical  laws,  take  him  out  of  comparison 
-vith  any  other  modern  writer,  and  entitle  him 
to  a  place,  vacant  for  some  ages,  among 
the  lawgivers  of  mankind.  That  slow  but 
commanding  influence  which  he  has  acquired, 


SweDenbors ;  or,  £be  dfegstic        1 19 


like  that  of  other  religious  geniuses,  must  be 
excessive  also,  and  have  its  tides,  before  it 
subsides  into  a  permanent  amount.  Of  course, 
what  is  real  and  universal  cannot  be  confined 
to  the  circle  of  those  who  sympathize  strictly 
with  his  genius,  but  will  pass  forth  into  the 
common  stock  of  wise  and  just  thinking.  The 
world  has  a  sure  chemistry,  by  which  it  attracts 
what  is  excellent  in  its  children,  and  lets  fall 
the  infirmities  and  limitations  of  the  grandest 
mind. 

That  metempsychosis  which  is  familiar  in 
the  old  mythology  of  the  Greeks,  collected  in 
Ovid,  and  in  the  Indian  Transmigration,  and 
is  there  objective,  or  really  takes  place  in  bodies 
by  alien  will, — in  Swedenborg's  mind,  has  a 
more  philosophic  character.  It  is  subjective, 
or  depends  entirely  upon  the  thought  of  the 
person.  All  things  in  the  universe  arrange 
themselves  to  each  person  anew,  according  to 
his  ruling  love.  Man  is  such  as  his  affection 
and  thought  are.  Man  is  man  by  virtue  of 
willing,  not  by  virtue  of  knowing  and  under 
standing.  As  he  is,  so  he  sees.  The  marriages 
of  the  world  are  broken  up.  Interiors  asso 
ciate  all  in  the  spiritual  world.  Whatever  the 
angels  looked  upon  was  to  them  celestial. 
Each  Satan  appears  to  himself  a  man  •  to  those 
as  bad  as  he,  a  comely  man  ;  to  the  purified  a 
heap  of  carrion.  Nothing  can  resist  states: 
everything  gravitates :  like  will  to  like  :  what 
we  call  poetic  justice  takes  effect  on  the  spot. 


izo  "Representative 


We  have  come  into  a  world  which  is  a  living 
poem.  Everything  is  as  I  am.  Bird  and 
beast  is  not  bird  and  beast,  but  emanation  and 
effluvia  of  the  minds  and  wills  of  men  there 
present.  Every  one  makes  his  own  house  and 
state.  The  ghosts  are  tormented  with  the  fear 
of  death,  and  cannot  remember  that  they  have 
died.  They  who  are  in  evil  and  falsehood  are 
afraid  of  all  others.  Such  as  have  deprived 
themselves  of  charity,  wander  and  flee  :  the 
societies  which  they  approach  discover  their 
quality,  and  drive  them  away.  The  covetous 
seem  to  themselves  to  be  abiding  in  cells 
where  their  money  is  deposited,  and  these  to 
be  infested  with  mice.  They  who  place  merit 
in  good  works  seem  to  themselves  to  cut  wood. 
"  I  asked  such,  if  they  were  not  wearied  ? 
They  replied,  that  they  have  not  yet  done 
work  enough  to  merit  heaven." 

He  delivers  golden  sayings,  which  express 
with  singular  beauty  the  ethical  laws  ;  as  when 
he  uttered  that  famed  sentence,  that,  "  in 
heaven  the  angels  are  advancing  continually 
to  the  springtime  of  their  youth,  so  that  the 
oldest  angel  appears  the  youngest : "  "  The 
more  angels,  the  more  room  :  "  "  The  perfection 
of  man  is  the  love  of  use  : "  "  Man,  in  his  per 
fect  form,  is  heaven  :  "  "  What  is  from  Him,  is 
Him : ''  "  Ends  always  ascend  as  nature  de 
scends  :  "  And  the  truly  poetic  account  of  the 
writing  in  the  inmost  heaven,  which,  as  it  con 
sists  of  inflexions  according  to  the  form  of 


Swe&enborg;  or,  tTbe  /Rustic        1*1 


heaven,  can  be  read  without  instruction.  He 
almost  justifies  his  claim  to  preternatural 
vision,  by  strange  insights  of  the  structure  of 
the  human  body  and  mind.  "  It  is  never  per 
mitted  to  any  one,  in  heaven,  to  stand  behind 
another  and  look  at  the  back  of  his  head :  for 
then  the  influx  which  is  from  the  Lord  is  dis 
turbed."  The  angels,  from  the  sound  of  the 
voice,  know  a  man's  love  ;  from  the  articulation 
of  the  sound,  his  wisdom  ;  and  from  the  sense 
of  the  words,  his  science. 

In  the  "  Conjugal  Love,"  he  has  unfolded 
the  science  of  marriage.  Of  this  book,  one 
would  say,  that,  with  the  highest  elements,  it 
has  failed  of  success.  It  came  near  to  be  the 
Hymn  of  Love,  which  Plato  attempted  in  the 
"  Banquet ;  "  the  love,  which,  Dante  says, 
Casella  sang  among  the  angels  in  Paradise  ; 
and  which,  as  rightly  celebrated,  in  its  genesis, 
fruition,  and  effect,  might  well  entrance  the 
souls,  as  it  would  lay  open  the  genesis  of  all 
institutions,  customs,  and  manners.  The  book 
had  been  grand,  if  the  Hebraism  had  been 
omitted,  and  the  law  stated  without  Gothicism, 
as  ethics,  and  with  that  scope  for  ascension  of 
state  which  the  nature  of  things  requires.  It 
is  a  fine  Platonic  development  of  the  science 
of  marriage  ;  teaching  that  sex  is  universal,  and 
not  local ;  virility  in  the  male  qualifying  every 
organ,  act,  and  thought ;  and  the  feminine  in 
woman.  Therefore,  in  the  real  or  spiritual 
world,  the  nuptial  union  is  not  momentary, 


122  "Representative 


but  incessant  and  total ;  and  chastity  not  a 
local,  but  a  universal  virtue ;  unchastity  being 
discovered  as  much  in  the  trading,  or  planting, 
or  speaking,  or  philosophizing,  as  in  generation ; 
and  that,  though  the  virgins  he  saw  in  heaven 
were  beautiful,  the  wives  were  incomparably 
more  beautiful,  and  went  on  increasing  in 
beauty  evermore. 

Yet  Swedenborg,  after  his  mode,  pinned  his 
theory  to  a  temporary  form.  He  exaggerates 
the  circumstance  of  marriage ,  and,  though  he 
finds  false  marriages  on  the  earth,  fancies  a 
wiser  choice  in  heaven.  But  of  progressive 
souls,  all  loves  and  friendships  are  momentary. 
Do  you  love  me?  means,  Do  you  see  the  same 
truth  ?  If  you  do,  we  are  happy  with  the  same 
happiness ;  but  presently  one  of  us  passes  into 
the  perception  of  new  truth  ; — we  are  divorced, 
and  no  tension  in  nature  can  hold  us  to  each 
other.  I  know  how  delicious  is  this  cup  of 
love, — I  existing  for  you,  you  existing  for  me  • 
but  it  is  a  child's  clinging  to  his  toy ;  an  attempt 
to  eternize  the  fireside  and  nuptial  chamber ; 
to  keep  the  picture-alphabet  through  which 
our  first  lessons  are  prettily  conveyed.  The 
Eden  of  God  is  bare  and  grand  :  like  the  out 
door  landscape,  remembered  from  the  even 
ing  fireside,  it  seems  cold  and  desolate,  whilst 
you  cower  over  the  coals  ;  but,  once  abroad 
again,  we  pity  those  who  can  forego  the  mag 
nificence  of  nature,  for  candle-light  and  cards. 
Perhaps  the  true  subject  of  the  "  Conjugal 


SweOenborg;  or,  ftbe  /lRg0tic        123 


Love "  is  conversation,  whose  laws  are  pro 
foundly  eliminated.  It  is  false,  if  literally 
applied  to  marriage.  For  God  is  the  bride  or 
bridegroom  of  the  soul.  Heaven  is  not  the 
pairing  of  two,  but  the  communion  of  all  souls. 
We  meet,  and  dwell  an  instant  under  the  temple 
of  one  thought,  and  part  as  though  we  parted 
not,  to  join  another  thought  in  other  fellow 
ships  of  joy.  So  far  from  there  being  any 
thing  divine  in  the  low  and  proprietary  sense 
of  Do  you  love  me?  it  is  only  when  you  leave 
and  lose  me,  by  casting  yourself  on  a  sentiment 
which  is  higher  than  both  of  us,  that  I  draw 
near,  and  find  myself  at  your  side  ;  and  I  am 
repelled,  if  you  fix  your  eye  on  me,  and  de^ 
mand  love.  In  fact,  in  the  spiritual  world,  we 
change  sexes  every  moment.  You  love  the 
worth  in  me  ;  then  I  am  your  husband  :  but  it 
is  not  me,  but  the  worth,  that  fixes  the  love  ; 
and  that  worth  is  a  drop  of  the  ocean  of 
worth  that  is  beyond  me.  Meantime,  I  adore 
the  greater  worth  in  another,  and  so  become 
his  wife.  He  aspires  to  a  higher  worth  in 
another  spirit,  and  is  wife  or  receiver  of  that 
influence. 

Whether  a  self-inquisitorial  habit,  that  he 
grew  into,  from  jealousy  of  the  sins  to  which 
men  of  thought  are  liable,  he  has  acquired,  in 
disentangling  and  demonstrating  that  particu 
lar  form  of  moral  disease,  an  acumen  which  no 
conscience  can  resist.  I  refer  to  his  feeling  of 
the  profanation  of  thinking  to  what  is  good 


124  "Representative 


"from  scientifics."  "To  reason  about  faith, 
is  to  doubt  and  deny. "  He  was  painfully  alive 
to  the  difference  between  knowing  and  doing, 
and  this  sensibility  is  incessantly  expressed. 
Philosophers  are,  therefore,  vipers,  cockatrices, 
asps,  hemorrhoids,  presters,and  flying  serpents  ; 
literary  men  are  conjurers  and  charlatans. 

But  this  topic  suggests  a  sad  afterthought, 
that  here  we  find  the  seat  of  his  own  pain. 
Possibly  Swedenborg  paid  the  penalty  of  in 
troverted  faculties.  Success,  or  a  fortunate 
genius,  seems  to  depend  on  a  happy  adjustment 
of  heart  and  brain  ;  on  a  due  proportion,  hard 
to  hit,  of  moral  and  mental  power,  which, 
perhaps,  obeys  the  law  of  those  chemical  ratios 
which  make  a  proportion  in  volumes  necessary 
to  combination,  as  when  gases  will  combine 
in  certain  fixed  rates,  but  not  at  any  rate.  It  is 
hard  to  carry  a  full  cup  :  and  this  man,  pro 
fusely  endowed  in  heart  and  mind,  early  fell 
into  dangerous  discord  with  himself.  In  his 
Animal  Kingdom,  he  surprised  us,  by  declar 
ing  that  he  loved  analysis,  and  not  synthesis  ; 
and  now,  after  his  fiftieth  year,  he  falls  into 
jealousy  of  his  intellect ;  and,  though  aware 
that  truth  is  not  solitary,  nor  is  goodness 
solitary,  but  both  must  ever  mix  and  marry, 
he  makes  war  on  his  mind,  takes  the  part  of 
the  conscience  against  it,  and,  on  all  occasions, 
traduces  and  blasphemes  it.  The  violence  is 
instantly  avenged.  Beauty  is  disgraced,  love 
is  unlovely,  when  truth,  the  half  part  of  heaven, 


SweDenbors ;  or,  Cbe  /Sbgstfc.       125 


is  denied,  as  much  as  when  a  bitterness  in 
men  of  talent  leads  to  satire,  and  destroys  the 
judgment.  He  is  wise,  but  wise  in  his  own 
despite.  There  is  an  air  of  infinite  grief,  and 
the  sound  of  wailing,  all  over  and  through 
this  lurid  universe.  A  vampyre  sits  in  the 
seat  of  the  prophet,  and  turns  with  gloomy 
appetite  to  the  images  of  pain.  Indeed,  a 
bird  does  not  more  readily  weave  its  nest,  or 
a  mole  bore  into  the  ground,  than  this  seer  of 
the  souls  substructs  a  new  hell  and  pit,  each 
more  abominable  than  the  last,  round  every 
new  crew  of  offenders.  He  was  let  down 
through  a  column  that  seemed  of  brass,  but  it 
was  formed  of  angelic  spirits,  that  he  might 
descend  safely  amongst  the  unhappy,  and 
witness  the  vastation  of  souls ;  and  heard 
there,  for  a  long  continuance,  their  lamenta 
tions  ;  he  saw  their  tormentors,  who  increase 
and  strain  pangs  to  infinity ;  he  saw  the  hell 
of  the  jugglers,  the  hell  of  the  assassins,  the 
hell  of  the  lascivious  ;  the  hell  of  robbers,  who 
kill  and  boil  men ;  the  infernal  tun  of  the 
deceitful ;  the  excrementitious  hells  ;  the  hell 
of  the  revengeful,  whose  faces  resembled  a 
round,  broad  cake,  and  their  arms  rotate  like 
a  wheel.  Except  Rabelais  and  Dean  Swift, 
nobody  ever  had  such  science  of  filth  and 
corruption. 

These  books  should  be  used  with  caution. 
It  is  dangerous  to  sculpture  these  evanescing 
images  of  thought.  True  in  transition,  they 


iz6  Uepresentatfve  fl&en 

become  false  if  fixed.  It  requires,  for  his  just 
apprehension,  almost  a  genius  equal  to  his 
Own.  But  when  his  visions  become  the  ste 
reotyped  language  of  multitudes  of  persons,  of 
all  degrees  of  age  and  capacity,  they  are 
perverted.  The  wise  people  of  the  Greek  race 
were  accustomed  to  lead  the  most  intelligent 
and  virtuous  young  men,  as  part  of  their 
education,  through  the  Eleusinian  mysteries, 
wherein,  with  much  pomp  and  graduation,  the 
highest  truths  known  to  ancient  wisdom  were 
taught.  An  ardent  and  contemplative  young 
man,  at  eighteen  or  twenty  years,  might  read 
once  these  books  of  Swedenborg,  these  mys 
teries  of  love  and  conscience,  and  then  throw 
them  aside  forever.  Genius  is  ever  haunted  by 
similar  dreams,  when  the  hells  and  the  heavens 
are  opened  to  it.  But  these  pictures  are  to  be 
held  as  mystical,  that  is,  as  a  quite  arbitrary 
and  accidental  picture  of  the  truth — not  as 
the  truth.  Any  other  symbol  would  be  as 
good :  then  this  is  safely  seen. 

Swedenborg's  system  of  the  world  wants 
central  spontaneity ;  it  is  dynamic,  not  vital, 
and  lacks  power  to  generate  life.  There  is  no 
individual  in  it.  The  universe  is  a  gigantic 
crystal,  all  those  atoms  and  lamina?  lie  in  un 
interrupted  order,  and  with  unbroken  unity, 
but  cold  and  still.  What  seems  an  individual 
and  a  will,  is  none.  There  is  an  immense 
chain  of  intermediation,  extending  from  centra 


Swe&enborfi ;  or,  ftbe  /Sb^sttc        127 


to  extremes,  which  bereaves  every  agency  of 
all  freedom  and  character.  The  universe,  in 
his  poem,  suffers  under  a  magnetic  sleep,  and 
only  reflects  the  mind  of  the  .magnetizer. 
Every  thought  comes  into  each  mind  by  in 
fluence  from  a  society  of  spirits  that  surround 
it,  and  into  these  from  a  higher  society,  and  so 
on.  All  his  types  mean  the  same  few  things. 
All  his  figures  speak  one  speech.  All  his 
interlocutors  Swedenborgize.  Be  they  who 
they  may,  to  this  complexion  must  they  come 
at  last.  This  Charon  ferries  them  all  over  in 
his  boat ;  kings,  counsellors,  cavaliers,  doctors, 
Sir  Isaac  Newton,  Sir  Hans  Sloane,  King 
George  II.,  Mahomet,  or  whosoever,  and  all 
gather  one  grimness  of  hue  and  style.  Only 
when  Cicero  comes  by,  our  gentle  seer  sticks 
a  little  at  saying  he  talked  with  Cicero,  and, 
with  a  touch  of  human  relenting,  remarks, 
"one  whom  it  was  given  me  to  believe  was 
Cicero ;  "  and  when  the  soi  disant  Roman 
opens  his  mouth,  Rome  and  eloquence  have 
ebbed  away, — it  is  plain  theologic  Sweden- 
borg,  like  the  rest.  His  heavens  and  hells 
are  dull ;  fault  of  want  of  individualism.  The 
thousand-fold  relation  of  men  is  not  there. 
The  interest  that  attaches  in  nature  to  each 
man,  because  he  is  right  by  his  wrong,  and 
wrong  by  his  right,  because  he  defies  all 
dogmatizing  and  classification,  so  many  allow 
ances,  and  contingences,  and  futurities,  are  to 
be  taken  into  account,  strong  by  his  vices, 


128  "Representative 


often  paralyzed  by  his  virtues, — sinks  into 
entire  sympathy  with  his  society.  This  want 
reacts  to  the  centre  of  the  system.  Though 
the  agency  of  "  the  Lord "  is  in  every  line 
referred  to  by  name,  it  never  becomes  alive. 
There  is  no  lustre  in  that  eye  which  gazes 
from  the  centre,  and  which  should  vivify  the 
immense  dependency  of  beings. 

The  vice  of  Swedenborg's  mind  is  its  theo- 
logic  determination.  Nothing  with  him  has 
the  liberality  of  universal  wisdom,  but  we  are 
always  in  a  church.  That  Hebrew  muse, 
which  taught  the  lore  of  right  and  wrong  to 
men,  had  the  same  excess  of  influence  for 
him,  it  has  had  for  the  nations.  The  mode, 
as  well  as  the  essence,  was  sacred.  Palestine 
is  ever  the  more  valuable  as  a  chapter  in 
universal  history,  and  ever  the  less  an  avail 
able  element  in  education.  The  genius  of 
Swedenborg,  largest  of  all  modern  souls  in 
this  department  of  thought,  wasted  itself  in 
the  endeavor  to  reanimate  and  conserve  what 
had  already  arrived  at  its  natural  term,  and,  in 
the  great  secular  Providence,  was  retiring 
from  its  prominence,  before  western  modes  of 
thought  and  expression.  Swedenborg  and 
Behmen  both  failed  by  attaching  themselves 
to  the  Christian  symbol,  instead  of  to  the 
moral  sentiment,  which  carries  innumerable 
Christianities,  humanities,  divinities,  in  its 
bosom. 

The  excess  of  influence  shows  itself  in  the 


Swefienborg  ;  or,  Gbe  /fcggtic        129 


incongruous  importation  of  a  foreign  rhetoric, 
"  What  have  I  to  do,"  asks  the  impatient 
reader,  "  with  jasper  and  sardonyx,  beryl  and 
chalcedony;  what  with  arks  and  passovers, 
ephahs  and  ephods ;  what  with  lepers  and 
emerods ;  what  with  heave-offerings  and  un 
leavened  bread ;  chariots  of  fire,  dragons 
crowned  and  horned,  behemoth  and  unicorn  ? 
Good  for  orientals,  these  are  nothing  to  me. 
The  more  learning  you  bring  to  explain  them, 
the  more  glaring  the  impertinence.  The  more 
coherent  and  elaborate  the  system,  the  less  I 
like  it.  I  say,  with  the  Spartan,  '  Why  do  you 
speak  so  much  to  the  purpose,  of  that  which 
is  nothing  to  the  purpose  ? '  My  learning  is 
such  as  God  gave  me  in  my  birth  and  habit, 
in  the  delight  and  study  of  my  eyes,  and  not 
of  another  man's.  Of  all  absurdities,  this  ot 
some  foreigner,  proposing  to  take  away  my 
rhetoric,  and  substitute  his  own,  and  amuse 
me  with  pelican  and  stork,  instead  of  thrush  and 
robin ;  palm-trees  and  shittim-wood,  instead 
of  sassafras  and  hickory, — seems  the  most 
needless." 

Locke  said,  "God,  when  he  makes  the 
prophet,  does  not  unmake  the  man."  Sweden- 
borg's  history  points  the  remark.  The  parish 
disputes,  in  the  Swedish  church,  between  the 
friends  and  foes  of  Luther  and  Melancthon, 
concerning  "  faith  alone,"  and  "  works  alone," 
intrude  themselves  into  his  speculations  upon 
the  economy  of  the  universe,  and  of  the  celes- 
9 


130  "Representative  /Ren 


tial  societies.  The  Lutheran  bishop's  son,  for 
whom  the  heavens  are  opened,  so  that  he  sees 
with  eyes,  and  in  the  richest  symbolic  forms, 
the  awful  truth  of  things,  and  utters  again,  in 
his  books,  as  under  a  heavenly  mandate,  the 
indisputable  secrets  of  moral  nature, — with  all 
these  grandeurs  resting  upon  him,  remains  the 
Lutheran  bishop's  son ;  his  judgments  are 
those  of  a  Swedish  polemic,  and  his  vast  en 
largements  purchased  by  adamantine  limita 
tions.  He  carries  his  controversial  memory 
with  him,  in  his  visits  to  the  souls.  He  is  like 
Michel  Angelo,  who,  in  his  frescoes,  put  the 
cardinal  who  had  offended  him  to  roast  under 
a  mountain  of  devils;  or,  like  Dante,  who 
avenged,  in  vindictive  melodies,  all  his  private 
wrongs ;  or,  perhaps  still  more  like  Mon 
taigne's  parish  priest,  who,  if  a  hailstorm  passes 
over  the  village,  thinks  the  day  of  doom  has 
come,  and  the  cannibals  already  have  got  the 
pip.  Swedenborg  confounds  us  not  less  with 
the  pains  of  Melancthon,  and  Luther,  and 
Wolfius,  and  his  own  books,  which  he  adver 
tises  among  the  angels. 

Under  the  same  theologic  cramp,  many  of 
his  dogmas  are  bound.  His  cardinal  position 
in  morals  is,  that  evils  should  be  shunned  as 
sins.  But  he  does  not  know  what  evil  is,  or 
what  good  is,  who  thinks  any  ground  remains 
to  be  occupied,  after  saying  that  evil  is  to  be 
shunned  as  evil.  I  doubt  not  he  was  led  by 
the  desire  to  insert  the  element  of  personality 


;  or,  Gbc  dfc£0ttc 


of  Deity.  But  nothing  is  added.  One  man, 
you  say,  dreads  erysipelas, — show  him  that 
this  dread  is  evil :  or,  one  dreads  hell, — show 
him  that  dread  is  evil.  He  who  loves  good 
ness,  harbors  angels,  reveres  reverence,  and 
lives  with  God.  The  less  we  have  to  do  with 
our  sins,  the  better.  No  man  can  afford  to 
waste  his  moments  in  compunctions.  "  That 
is  active  duty,"  say  the  Hindoos,  "  which  is 
not  for  our  bondage  ;  that  is  knowledge,  which 
is  for  our  liberation  ;  all  other  duty  is  good 
only  unto  weariness." 

Another  dogma,  growing  out  of  this  perni 
cious  theologic  limitation,  is  this  Inferno. 
Swedenborg  has  devils.  Evil,  according  to 
old  philosophers,  is  good  in  the  making.  That 
pure  malignity  can  exist,  is  the  extreme  prop 
osition  of  unbelief.  It  is  not  to  be  enter 
tained  by  a  rational  agent ;  it  is  atheism  ;  it  is 
the  last  profanation.  Euripides  rightly  said, — 

"  Goodness  and  being  in  the  gods  are  one ; 
He  who  imputes  ill  to  them  makes  them  none." 

To  what  a  painful  perversion  had  Gothic 
theology  arrived,  that  Swedenborg  admitted 
no  conversion  for  evil  spirits  !  But  the  divine 
effort  is  never  relaxed  ;  the  carrion  in  the  sun 
will  convert  itself  to  grass  and  flowers ;  and 
man,  though  in  brothels,  or  jails,  or  on  gib 
bets,  is  on  his  way  to  all  that  is  good  and  true. 
Burns,  with  the  wild  humor  of  his  apostrophe 
to  "  poor  old  Nickie  Ben," 


13*  Representative  dfcen 

"  O  wad  ye  tak  a  thought,  and  mend!" 

has  the  advantage  of  the  vindictive  theologian. 
Everything  is  superficial,  and  perishes,  but 
love  and  truth  only.  The  largest  is  always  the 
truest  sentiment,  and  we  feel  the  more  gener 
ous  spirit  of  the  Indian  Vishnu, — "  I  am  the 
same  to  all  mankind.  There  is  not  one  who 
is  worthy  of  my  love  or  hatred.  They  who 
serve  me  with  adoration, — I  am  in  them,  and 
they  in  me.  If  one  whose  ways  are  altogether 
evil,  serve  me  alone,  he  is  as  respectable  as 
the  just  man  ;  he  is  altogether  well  employed ; 
he  soon  becometh  of  a  virtuous  spirit,  and 
obtaineth  eternal  happiness." 

For  the  anomalous  pretension  of  Revelations 
of  the  other  world, — only  his  probity  and 
genius  can  entitle  it  to  any  serious  regard. 
His  revelations  destroy  their  credit  by  run 
ning  into  detail.  If  a  man  say,  that  the  Holy 
Ghost  has  informed  him  that  the  Last  Judg 
ment  (or  the  last  of  the  judgments)  took  place 
in  1757;  or,  that  the  Dutch,  in  the  other 
world,  live  in  a  heaven  by  themselves,  and 
the  English,  in  a  heaven  by  themselves ;  I  re 
ply,  that  the  Spirit  which  is  holy,  is  reserved, 
taciturn,  and  deals  in  laws.  The  rumors  of 
ghosts  and  hobgoblins  gossip  and  tell  fortunes. 
The  teaching  of  the  high  Spirit  are  abstemious, 
and,  in  regard  to  particulars,  negative.  Soc 
rates'  Genius  did  not  advise  him  to  act  or  to 
find,  but  if  he  proposed  to  do  somewhat  not 


Swe&enbors ;  or,  Gbe  Obvstic       133. 


advantageous,  it  dissuaded  him.  "  What  God 
is,"  he  said,  "  I  know  not ;  what  he  is  not  I 
know."  The  Hindoos  have  denominated  the 
Supreme  Being,  the  "  Internal  Check."  The 
illuminated  Quakers  explained  their  Light, 
not  as  somewhat  which  leads  to  any  action, 
but  it  appears  as  an  obstruction  to  anything 
unfit.  But  the  right  examples  are  private  ex 
periences,  which  are  absolutely  at  one  on  this 
point.  Strictly  speaking,  Swedenborg's  reve 
lation  is  a  confounding  of  planes, — a  capital 
offence  in  so  learned  a  categorist.  This  is  to 
carry  the  law  of  surface  into  the  plane  of  sub 
stance,  to  carry  individualism  and  its  fopperies 
into  the  realm  of  essences  and  generals,  which 
is  dislocation  and  chaos. 

The  secret  of  heaven  is  kept  from  age  to- 
age.  No  imprudent,  no  sociable  angel  ever 
dropt  an  early  syllable  to  answer  the  long 
ings  of  saints,  the  fears  of  mortals.  We 
should  have  listened  on  our  knees  to  any 
favorite,  who,  by  stricter  obedience,  had 
brought  his  thoughts  into  parallelism  with  the 
celestial  currents,  and  could  hint  to  human 
ears  the  scenery  and  circumstance  of  the 
newly  parted  soul.  But  it  is  certain  that  it 
must  tally  with  what  is  best  in  nature.  It 
must  not  be  inferior  in  tone  to  the  already 
known  works  of  the  artist  who  sculptures  the 
globes  of  the  firmament,  and  writes  the  moral 
law.  It  must  be  fresher  than  rainbows,  stabler 
than  mountains,  agreeing  with  flowers,  with 


134  "Representative  /Ben 


tides,  and  the  rising  and  setting  of  autumnal 
stars.  Melodious  poets  shall  be  hoarse  as 
street  ballads,  when  once  the  penetrating  key 
note  of  nature  and  spirit  is  sounded, — the 
earth-beat,  sea-beat,  heart-beat  which  makes 
the  tune  to  which  the  sun  rolls,  and  the  globule 
of  blood,  and  the  sap  of  trees. 

In  this  mood,  we  hear  the  rumor  that  the 
seer  has  arrived,  and  his  tale  is  told.  But 
there  is  no  beauty,  no  heaven  :  for  angels, 
goblins.  The  sad  muse  loves  night  and  death, 
and  the  pit.  His  Inferno  is  mesmeric.  His 
spiritual  world  bears  the  same  relation  to  the 
generosities  and  joys  of  truth,  of  which  human 
souls  have  already  made  us  cognizant,  as  a 
man's  bad  dreams  bear  to  his  ideal  life.  It  is 
indeed  very  like,  in  its  endless  power  of  lurid 
pictures,  to  the  phenomena  of  dreaming,  which 
nightly  turns  many  an  honest  gentleman, 
benevolent,  but  dyspeptic,  into  a  wretch,  skulk 
ing  like  a  dog  about  the  outer  yards  and  ken 
nels  of  creation.  When  he  mounts  into  the 
heavens,  I  do  not  hear  its  language.  A  man 
should  not  tell  me  that  he  has  walked  among 
the  angels  ;  his  proof  is,  that  his  eloquence 
makes  me  one.  Shall  the  archangels  be  less 
majestic  and  sweet  than  the  figures  that  have 
actually  walked  the  earth  ?  These  angels  that 
Swedenborg  paints  give  us  no  very  high  idea 
of  their  discipline  and  culture  ;  they  are  all 
country  parsons  ;  their  heaven  is  a.  fete  chain- 
and  evangelical  picnic,  or  French  dis« 


Swe&cnborg;  or,  ftbe  jfldgstic        135 


tribution  of  prizes  to  virtuous  peasants. 
Strange,  scholastic,  didactic,  passionless, 
bloodless  man,  who  denotes  classes  of  souls  as 
a  botanist  disposes  of  a  carex,  and  visits  dole 
ful  hells  as  a  stratum  of  chalk  or  hornblende  ! 
He  has  no  sympathy.  He  goes  up  and  down 
the  world  of  men,  a  modern  Rhadamanthua 
in  gold-headed  cane  and  peruke,  and  with 
nonchalance,  and  the  air  of  a  referee,  distrib 
utes  souls.  The  warm,  many-weathered,  pas 
sionate-peopled  world  is  to  him  a  grammat 
of  hieroglyphs,  or  an  emblematic  freemason's 
procession.  How  different  is  Jacob  Behmenl 
he  is  tremulous  with  emotion,  and  listens  awe 
struck,  with  the  gentlest  humanity,  to  th* 
Teacher  whose  lessons  he  conveys  ;  and  \vhet» 
he  asserts  that,  "  in  some  sort,  love  is  gvt&tet 
than  God,"  his  heart  beats  so  high  that  th* 
thumping  against  his  leathern  coat  is  audible; 
across  the  centuries.  'Tis  a  great  difference. 
Behmen  is  healthily  and  beautifully  wise,  not 
withstanding  the  mystical  narrowness  and  in- 
communicableness.  Swedenbovg  is  disagree 
ably  wise,  and,  with  all  his  accumulated  gifts, 
paralyzes  and  repels. 

It  is  the  best  sign  of  a  great  nature,  that  it 
opens  a  foreground,  and,  like  the  breath  of 
morning  landscapes,  invites  us  onward.  Swe- 
denborg  is  retrospective,  nor  can  we  divest 
him  of  his  mattock  and  shroud.  Some  minds 
are  forever  restrained  from  descending  into 
nature;  others  are  forever  prevented  from 


136  IRepresentative 


ascending  out  of  it.  With  a  force  of  many  men, 
he  could  never  break  the  umbilical  cord  which 
held  him  to  nature,  and  he  did  not  rise  to  the 
platform  of  pure  genius. 

It  is  remarkable  that  this  man,  who,  by  his 
perception  of  symbols,  saw  the  poetic  construc 
tion  of  things,  and  the  primary  relation  of 
mind  to  matter,  remained  entirely  devoid  of 
the  whole  apparatus  of  poetic  expression, 
which  that  perception  creates.  He  knew  the 
grammar  and  rudiments  of  the  Mother-Tongue, 
— how  could  he  not  read  off  one  strain  into 
music?  Was  he  like  Saadi,  who,  in  his  vision, 
designed  to  fill  his  lap  with  the  celestial 
flowers,  as  presents  for  his  friends  ;  but  the 
fragrance  of  the  roses  so  intoxicated  him,  that 
the  skirt  dropped  from  his  hands  ?  or,  is  re 
porting  a  breach  of  the  manners  of  that 
heavenly  society  ?  or,  was  it  that  he  saw  the 
vision  intellectually,  and  hence  that  chiding  of 
the  intellectual  that  pervades  his  books  ?  Be 
it  as  it  may,  his  books  have  no  melody,  no 
emotion,  no  humor,  no  relief  to  the  dead  prosaic 
level.  In  his  profuse  and  accurate  imagery  is 
no  pleasure,  for  there  is  no  beauty.  We  wander 
forlorn  in  a  lack-lustre  landscape.  No  bird 
ever  sang  in  all  these  gardens  of  the  dead. 
The  entire  want  of  poetry  in  so  transcendent 
a  mind  betokens  the  disease,  and,  like  a  hoarse 
voice  in  a  beautiful  person,  is  a  kind  of  warn 
ing.  I  think,  sometimes,  he  will  not  be  read 
2>nger.  His  great  name  will  turn  a  sentence. 


Swefcenborg ;  or,  ftbe  dfcgstlc        137 


His  books  have  become  a  monument.  His 
laurel  so  largely  mixed  with  cypress,  a  charnel- 
breath  so  mingles  with  the  temple  incense, 
that  boys  and  maids  will  shun  the  spot. 

Yet,  in  this  immolation  of  genius  and  fame 
at  the  shrine  of  conscience,  is  a  merr:  sublime 
beyond  praise.  He  lived  to  purpose :  he  gave 
a  verdict.  He  elected  goodness  as  the  clue 
to  which  the  soul  must  cling  in  all  this  laby 
rinth  of  nature.  Many  opinions  conflict  as  to 
the  true  centre.  In  the  shipwreck,  some  cling 
to  running  rigging,  some  to  cask  and  barrel, 
some  to  spars,  some  to  mast;  the  pilot  chooses 
with  science, — I  plant  myself  here ;  all  will 
sink  before  this ;  "  he  comes  to  land  who  sails 
with  me."  Do  not  rely  on  heavenly  favor,  or 
on  compassion  to  folly,  or  on  prudence,  on 
common  sense,  the  old  usage  and  main  chance 
of  men ;  nothing  can  keep  you, — not  fate,  nor 
health,  nor  admirable  intellect ;  none  can  keep 
you,  but  rectitude  only,  rectitude  forever  and 
ever  ! — and,  with  a  tenacity  that  never  swerved 
in  alt  his  studies,  inventions,  dreams,  he  ad 
heres  to  this  brave  choice.  I  think  of  him 
as  of  some  transmigrating  votary  of  Indian 
legend,  who  says,  "  Though  I  be  dog,  or  jackal, 
or  pismire,  in  the  last  rudiments  of  nature, 
under  what  integument  or  ferocity,  I  cleave  to 
right,  as  the  sure  ladder  that  leads  up  to  man 
and  to  God." 

Swedenborg  has  rendered  a  double  service 
to  mankind,  which  is  now  only  beginning  to  be 


138  'Representative  /Ben 


known.  By  the  science  of  experiment  and 
use,  he  made  his  first  steps ;  he  observed  and 
published  the  laws  of  nature ;  and,  ascending 
by  just  degrees,  from  events  to  their  summits 
and  causes,  he  was  fired  with  piety  at  the  har 
monies  he  felt,  and  abandoned  himself  to  his 
joy  and  worship.  This  was  his  first  service. 
If  the  glory  was  too  bright  for  his  eyes  to 
bear,  if  he  staggered  under  the  trance  of  de 
light,  the  more  excellent  is  the  spectacle  he 
saw,  the  realities  of  being  which  beam  and 
blaze  through  him,  and  which  no  infirmities 
of  the  prophet  are  suffered  to  obscure  ;  and 
he  renders  a  second  passive  service  to  men, 
not  less  than  the  first, — perhaps,  in  the  great 
circle  of  being,  and  in  the  retributions  of 
spiritual  nature,  not  less  glorious  or  less 
beautiful  to  himself. 


MONTAIGNE  ;  OR,  THE  SKEPTIC. 


MONTAIOHE. 


IV. 

MONTAIGNE;  OR,  THE  SKEPTIC. 


EVERY  fact  is  related  on  one  side  to  sensa 
tion,  and,  on  the  other,  to  morals.  The  game 
of  thought  is,  on  the  appearance  of  one  of 
these  two  sides,  to  find  the  other  ;  given  the 
upper,  to  find  the  under  side.  Nothing  so  thin, 
but  has  these  two  faces ;  and,  when  the  ob 
server  has  seen  the  obverse,  he  turns  it  over  to 
see  the  reverse. 

Life  is  a  pitching  of  this  penny, — heads  or 
tails.  We  never  tire  of  this  game,  because 
there  is  still  a  slight  shudder  of  astonishment 
at  the  exhibition  of  the  other  face,  at  the  con 
trast  of  the  two  faces.  A  man  is  flushed  with 
success,  and  bethinks  himself  what  this  good 
luck  signifies.  He  drives  his  bargain  in  the 
street ;  but  it  occurs,  that  he  also  is  bought  and 
sold.  He  sees  the  beauty  of  a  human  face,  and 
searches  the  cause  of  that  beauty,  which  must  be 
more  beautiful.  He  builds  his  fortunes,  main 
tains  the  laws,  cherishes  his  children  ;  but  he 

141 


142  "Representative  dfcen 


asks  himself,  why  ?  and  whereto  ?  This  head 
and  this  tail  are  called,  in  the  language  of  phi 
losophy,  Infinite  and  Finite ;  Relative  and 
Absolute  ;  Apparent  and  Real ;  and  many  fine 
names  beside. 

Each  man  is  born  with  a  predisposition  to 
one  or  the  other  of  these  sides  of  nature ;  and 
it  will  easily  happen  that  men  will  be  found 
devoted  to  one  or  the  other.  One  class  has 
the  perception  of  difference,  and  is  conversant 
with  facts  and  surfaces  ;  cities  and  persons  ; 
and  the  bringing  certain  things  to  pass ; — the 
men  of  talent  and  action.  Another  class  have 
the  perception  of  identity,  and  are  men  of 
faith  and  philosophy,  men  of  genius. 

Each  of  these  riders  drives  too  fast.  Plo- 
tinus  believes  only  in  philosophers  ;  Fdnelon, 
in  saints  ;  Pindar  and  Byron,  in  poets.  Read 
the  haughty  language  in  which  Plato  and  the 
Platonists  speak  of  all  men  who  are  not  de 
voted  to  their  own  shining  abstractions :  other 
men  are  rats  and  mice.  The  literary  class  is 
usually  proud  and  exclusive.  The  correspond 
ence  of  Pope  and  Swift  describes  mankind 
around  them  as  monsters  ;  and  that  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller,  in  our  own  time,  is  scarcely 
more  kind. 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  this  arrogance  comes. 
The  genius  is  a  genius  by  the  first  look  he  casts 
on  any  object.  Is  his  eye  creative  ?  Does  he 
not  rest  in  angles  and  colors,  but  beholds  the 
design, — he  will  presently  undervalue  the 


or,  Cbe  Sfceptic        143 


actual  object.  In  powerful  moments,  his 
thought  has  dissolved  the  works  of  art  and 
nature  into  their  causes,  so  that  the  works 
appear  heavy  and  faulty.  He  has  a  conception 
of  beauty  which  the  sculptor  cannot  embody. 
Picture,  statue,  temple,  railroad,  steam-engine, 
existed  first  in  an  artist's  mind,  without  flaw, 
mistake,  or  friction,  which  impair  the  executed 
models.  So  did  the  church,  the  state,  college, 
court,  social  circle,  and  all  the  institutions.  It 
is  not  strange  that  these  men,  remembering 
what  they  have  seen  and  hoped  of  ideas,  should 
affirm  disdainfully  the  superiority  of  ideas. 
Having  at  some  time  seen  that  the  happy  soul 
will  carry  all  the  arts  in  power,  they  say,  Why 
cumber  ourselves  with  superfluous  realiza 
tions  ?  and,  like  dreaming  beggars,  they  as 
sume  to  speak  and  act  as  if  these  values  were 
already  substantiated. 

On  the  other  part,  the  men  of  toil  and  trade 
and  luxury, — the  animal  world,  including  the 
animal  in  the  philosopher  and  poet  also, — and 
the  practical  world,  including  the  painful  drudg 
eries  which  are  never  excused  to  philosopher 
or  poet  any  more  than  to  the  rest, — weigh 
heavily  on  the  other  side.  The  trade  in  our 
streets  believes  in  no  metaphysical  causes, 
thinks  nothing  of  the  force  which  necessitated 
traders  and  a  trading  planet  to  exist :  no,  but 
sticks  to  cotton,  sugar,  wool,  and  salt.  The 
ward  meetings,  on  election  days,  are  not  soft 
ened  by  any  misgiving  of  the  value  of  these 


144  'Representative  flben 


ballotings.  Hot  life  is  streaming  in  a  single 
direction.  To  the  men  of  this  world,  to  the 
animal  strength  and  spirits,  to  the  men  of 
practical  power,  whilst  immersed  in  it,  the  man 
of  ideas  appears  out  of  his  reason.  They  alone 
have  reason. 

Things  always  bring  their  own  philosophy 
with  them,  that  is,  prudence.  No  man  acquires 
property  without  acquiring  with  it  a  little  arith 
metic,  also.  In  England,  the  richest  country 
that  ever  existed,  property  stands  for  more, 
compared  with  personal  ability,  than  in  any 
other.  After  dinner,  a  man  believes  less,  denies 
more  :  verities  have  lost  some  charm.  After 
dinner,  arithmetic  is  the  only  science  :  ideas 
are  disturbing,  incendiary,  follies  of  young 
men,  repudiated  by  the  solid  portion  of  society  : 
and  a  man  comes  to  be  valued  by  his  athletic 
and  animal  qualities.  Spence  relates,  that  Mr- 
Pope  was  with  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  one  day, 
when  his  nephew,  a  Guinea  trader,  came  in. 
"  Nephew,"  said  Sir  Godfrey,  "  you  have  the 
honor  of  seeing  the  two  greatest  men  in  the 
world."  "  I  don't  know  how  great  men  you 
may  be,"  said  the  Guinea  man.  "  but  I  don't 
like  your  looks.  I  have  often  bought  a  man 
much  better  than  both  of  you,  all  muscles  and 
bones,  for  ten  guineas."  Thus,  the  men  of  the 
senses  revenge  themselves  on  the  professors, 
and  repay  scorn  for  scorn.  The  first  had 
leaped  to  conclusions  not  yet  ripe,  and  say 
more  than  is  true  ;  the  others  make  themselves 


Montaigne;  or,  Cbe  Sfceptfc        145 


merry  with  the  philosopher,  and  weigh  man  by 
the  pound. — They  believe  that  mustard  bites 
the  tongue,  that  pepper  is  hot,  friction-matches 
are  incendiary,  revolvers  to  be  avoided,  and 
suspenders  hold  up  pantaloons ;  that  there  is 
much  sentiment  in  a  chest  of  tea ;  and  a  man 
will  be  eloquent,  if  you  give  him  good  wine. 
Are  you  tender  and  scrupulous, — you  must  eat 
more  mince-pie.  They  hold  that  Luther  had 
milk  in  him  when  he  said, 

"  Wer  nicht  liebt  Wein,  Weib,  und  Gesang 
Der  bleibt  ein  Narr  sein  Leben  lang  ;  " 

and  when  he  advised  a  young  scholar  perplexed 
with  fore-ordination  and  free-wall,  to  get  well 
drunk.  "  The  nerves,"  says  Cabanis,  "  they 
are  the  man."  My  neighbor,  a  jolly  farmer, 
in  the  tavern  bar-room,  thinks  that  the  use  of 
money  is  sure  and  speedy  spending.  "  For  his 
part,"  he  says,  "  he  puts  his  down  his  neck, 
and  gets  the  good  of  it." 

The  inconvenience  of  this  way  of  thinking  is, 
that  it  runs  into  indifferentism,  and  then  into 
disgust.  Life  is  eating  us  up.  We  shall  be 
fables  presently.  Keep  cool :  it  will  be  all  one 
a  hundred  years  hence.  Life's  well  enough  ; 
but  we  shall  be  glad  to  get  out  of  it,  and  they 
will  all  be  glad  to  have  us.  Why  should  we 
fret  and  drudge  ?  Our  meat  will  taste  to 
morrow  as  it  did  yesterday,  and  we  may  at  last 
have  had  enough  of  it.  "  Ah,"  said  my  languid 
10 


146  1Representatix>e  /Ren 


gentleman  at  Oxford,  "  there's  nothing  new  ot 
true, — and  no  matter." 

With  a  little  more  bitterness,  the  cynic 
moans  :  our  life  is  like  an  ass  led  to  market  by 
a  bundle  of  hay  being  carried  before  him : 
he  sees  nothing  but  the  bundle  of  hay.  "  There 
js  so  much  trouble  in  coming  into  the  world," 
said  Lord  Bolingbroke,  "  and  so  much  more, 
as  well  as  meanness,  in  going  out  of  it,  that  'tis 
hardly  worth  while  to  be  here  at  all."  I  knew 
a  philosopher  of  this  kidney,  who  was  accus 
tomed  briefly  to  sum  up  his  experience  of 
human  nature  in  saying,  "  Mankind  is  a 
damned  rascal :  "  and  the  natural  corollary  is 
pretty  sure  to  follow, — "  The  world  lives  by 
humbug,  and  so  will  I." 

The  abstractionist  and  the  materialist  thus 
mutually  exasperating  each  other,  and  the 
scoffer  expressing  the  worst  of  materialism, 
there  arises  a  third  party  to  occupy  the  middle 
ground  between  these  two,  the  skeptic,  namely. 
He  finds  both  wrong  by  being  in  extremes. 
He  labors  to  plant  his  feet,  to  be  the  beam  of 
the  balance.  He  will  not  go  beyond  his  card. 
He  sees  the  one-sidedness  of  these  men  of  the 
street ;  he  will  not  be  a  Gibeonite  ;  he  stands 
for  the  intellectual  faculties,  a  cool  head,  and 
whatever  serves  to  keep  it  cool :  no  unadvised 
industry,  no  unrewarded  self-devotion,  no  loss 
of  the  brains  in  toil.  Am  I  an  ox,  or  a  dray  ? 
— You  are  both  in  extremes,  he  says.  You 
that  will  have  all  solid,  and  a  world  of  pig-lead, 


flbontaiflne ;  or,  Cbe  Sceptic         147 


deceive  yourselves  grossly.  You  believe  your 
selves  rooted  and  grounded  on  adamant ;  and 
yet,  if  we  uncover  the  last  facts  of  our  knowl 
edge,  you  are  spinning  like  bubbles  in  a  river, 
you  kn6w  not  whither  or  whence,  and  you  are 
bottomed  and  capped  and  wrapped  in  delu 
sions. 

Neither  will  he  be  betrayed  to  a  book,  and 
wrapped  in  a  gown.  The  studious  class  are 
their  own  victims :  they  are  thin  and  pale, 
their  feet  are  cold,  their  heads  are  hot,  the 
night  is  without  sleep,  the  day  a  fear  of  inter 
ruption, — pallor,  squalor,  hunger,  and  egotism. 
If  you  come  near  them,  and  see  what  conceits 
they  entertain, — they  are  abstractionists,  and 
spend  their  days  and  nights  in  dreaming  some 
dreams  ;  in  expecting  the  homage  of  society 
to  some  precious  scheme  built  on  a  truth,  but 
destitute  of  proportion  in  its  presentment,  of 
justness  in  its  application,  and  of  all  energy 
of  will  in  the  schemer  to  embody  and  vitalize  it. 

But  I  see  plainly,  he  says,  that  I  cannot  see. 
I  know  that  human  strength  is  not  in  extremes, 
but  in  avoiding  extremes.  I,  at  least,  will  shun 
the  weakness  of  philosophizing  beyond  my 
depth.  What  is  the  use  of  pretending  to 
powers  we  have  not  ?  What  is  the  use  of  pre 
tending  to  assurances  we  have  not,  respecting 
the  other  life  ?  Why  exaggerate  the  power  of 
virtue  ?  \Vhy  be  an  angel  before  your  time  ? 
These  strings,  wound  up  too  high,  will  snap. 
If  there  is  a  wish  for  immortality,  and  no  evi- 


i4&  "Kepresentative  dfcen 

dence,  why  not  say  just  that  ?  If  there  are 
conflicting  evidences,  why  not  state  them  ?  If 
there  is  not  ground  for  a  candid  thinker  to 
make  up  his  mind,  yea  or  nay, — why  not  sus 
pend  the  judgment  ?  I  weary  of  these  dog- 
matizers.  I  tire  of  these  hacks  of  routine,  who 
deny  the  dogmas.  I  neither  affirm  nor  deny. 
I  stand  here  to  try  the  case.  I  am  here  to 
consider,  ffKeirreiv,  to  consider  how  it  is.  I  will 
try  to  keep  the  balance  true.  Of  what  use  to 
take  the  chair,  and  glibly  rattle  off  theories  of 
societies,  religion,  and  nature,  when  I  know 
that  practical  objections  lie  in  the  way,  insur 
mountable  by  me  and  by  my  mates  ?  Why  so 
talkative  in  public,  when  each  of  my  neighbors 
can  pin  me  to  my  seat  by  arguments  I  cannot 
refute  ?  Why  pretend  that  life  is  so  simple  a 
game,  when  we  know  how  subtle  and  elusive 
the  Proteus  is  ?  Why  think  to  shut  up  all 
things  in  your  narrow  coop,  when  we  know 
there  are  not  one  or  two  only,  but  ten,  twenty, 
a  thousand  things,  and  unlike?  Why  fancy 
that  you  have  all  the  truth  in  your  keeping  ? 
There  is  much  to  say  on  all  sides. 

Who  shall  forbid  a  wise  skepticism,  seeing 
that  there  is  no  practical  question  on  which 
anything  more  than  an  approximate  solution 
can  be  had  ?  Is  not  marriage  an  open  ques 
tion,  when  it  is  alleged,  from  the  beginning  of 
the  world,  that  such  as  are  in  the  institution 
wish  to  get  out,  and  such  as  are  out  wish  to  get 
in  ?  And  the  reply  of  Socrates,  to  him  who 


jflbontaigne ;  or,  £be  Sceptic        149 


asked  whether  he  should  choose  a  wife,  still 
remains  reasonable,  "  that,  whether  he  should 
choose  one  or  not,  he  would  repent  it."  Is 
not  the  state  a  question  ?  All  society  is 
divided  in  opinion  on  the  subject  of  the  state. 
Nobody  loves  it ;  great  numbers  dislike  it,  and 
suffer  conscientious  scruples  to  allegiance  : 
and  the  only  defence  set  up,  is,  the  fear  of  do 
ing  worse  in  disorganizing.  Is  it  otherwise 
with  the  church  ?  Or,  to  put  any  of  the  ques 
tions  which  touch  mankind  nearest, — shall  the 
young  man  aim  at  a  leading  part  in  law,  in 
politics,  in  trade  ?  It  will  not  be  pretended 
that  a  success  in  either  of  these  kinds  is  quite 
coincident  with  what  is  best  and  inmost  in  his 
mind.  Shall  he,  then,  cutting  the  stays  that 
hold  him  fast  to  the  social  state,  put  out  to  sea 
with  no  guidance  but  his  genius  ?  There  is 
much  to  say  on  both  sides.  Remember  the 
open  question  between  the  present  order  of 
"  competition,"  and  the  friends  of  "  attractive 
and  associated  labor."  The  generous  minds 
embrace  the  proposition  of  labor  shared  by  all ; 
it  is  the  only  honesty  ;  nothing  else  is  safe. 
It  is  from  the  poor  man's  hut  alone,  that 
strength  and  virtue  come  :  and  yet,  on  the 
other  side,  it  is  alleged  that  labor  impairs  the 
form,  and  breaks  the  spirit  of  man,  and  the 
laborers  cry  unanimously,  "  We  have  no 
thoughts."  Culture,  how  indispensable  !  I 
cannot  forgive  you  the  want  of  accomplish 
ment  ;  and  yet,  culture  will  instantly  destroy 


150  •Representative  fl&en 


that  chiefest  beauty  of  spontaneousness.  Ex 
cellent  is  culture  for  a  savage ;  but  once  let 
him  read  in  the  book,  and  he  is  no  longer  able 
not  to  think  of  Plutarch's  heroes.  In  short, 
since  true  fortitude  of  understanding  consist? 
"  in  not  letting  what  we  know  be  embarrassed 
by  what  we  do  not  know,"  we  ought  to  secure 
those  advantages  which  we  can  command,  and 
not  risk  them  by  clutching  after  the  airy  and 
unattainable.  Come,  no  chimeras  !  Let  us 
go  abroad ;  let  us  mix  in  affairs  ;  let  us  learn, 
and  get,  and  have,  and  climb.  "  Men  are  a 
sort  of  moving  plants,  and,  like  trees,  receive 
a  great  part  of  their  nourishment  from  the  air. 
If  they  keep  too  much  at  home,  they  pine." 
Let  us  have  a  robust,  manly  life  ;  let  us  know 
what  we  know,  for  certain  ;  what  we  have,  let 
it  be  solid,  and  seasonable,  and  our  own.  A 
world  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush. 
Let  us  have  to  do  with  real  men  and  women, 
and  not  with  skipping  ghosts. 

This,  then,  is  the  right  ground  of  the  skeptic, 
— this  of  consideration,  of  self-containing  ;  not 
at  all  of  unbelief;  not  at  all  of  universal  deny 
ing,  nor  of  universal  doubting, — doubting  even 
that  he  doubts  ;  least  of  all,  of  scoffing  and 
profligate  jeering  at  all  that  is  stable  and  good. 
These  are  no  more  his  moods  than  are  those 
of  religion  and  philosophy.  He  is  the  con- 
siderer,  the  prudent,  taking  in  sail,  counting 
stock,  husbanding  his  means,  believing  that  a 
man  has  too  many  enemies,  than  that  he  can 


flSontafgne;  or,  Gbe  Sfceptfc        151 


afford  to  be  his  own  ;  that  we  cannot  give  our 
selves  too  many  advantages,  in  this  unequal 
conflict,  with  powers  so  vast  and  unweariable 
ranged  on  one  side,  and  this  little,  conceited, 
vulnerable  popinjay  that  a  man  is,  bobbing  up 
and  down  into  every  danger,  on  the  other.  It 
is  a  position  taken  up  for  better  defence,  as  of 
more  safety,  and  one  that  can  be  maintained ; 
and  it  is  one  of  more  opportunity  and  range  : 
as,  when  we  build  a  house,  the  rule  is,  to  set 
it  not  too  high  nor  too  low,  under  the  wind, 
but  out  of  the  dirt. 

The  philosophy  we  want  is  one  of  fluxions 
and  mobility.  The  Spartan  and  Stoic  schemes 
are  too  stark  and  stiff  for  our  occasion.  A 
theory  of  Saint  John,  and  of  non-resistance, 
seems,  on  the  other  hand,  too  thin  and  aerial. 
We  want  some  coat  woven  of  elastic  steel, 
stout  as  the  first,  and  limber  as  the  second. 
We  want  a  ship  in  these  billows  we  inhabit. 
An  angular,  dogmatic  house  would  be  rent  to 
chips  and  splinters,  in  this  storm  of  many 
elements.  No,  it  must  be  tight,  and  fit  to  the 
form  of  man,  to  live  at  all ;  as  a  shell  is  the 
architecture  of  a  house  founded  on  the  sea. 
The  soul  of  man  must  be  the  type  of  our 
scheme,  just  as  the  body  of  man  is  the  type 
after  which  a  dwelling-house  is  built.  Adap- 
tiveness  is  the  peculiarity  of  human  nature. 
We  are  golden  averages,  volitant  stabilities, 
compensated  or  periodic  errors,  houses  founded 
on  the  sea.  The  wise  skeptic  wishes  to  have 


152  "Representative  Oben 


a.  near  view  of  the  best  game,  and  the  chief 
players  ;  what  is  best  in  the  planet ;  art  and 
nature,  places  and  events,  but  mainly  men. 
Everything  that  is  excellent  in  mankind, — a 
form  of  grace,  an  arm  of  iron,  lips  of  persua 
sion,  a  brain  of  resources,  every  one  skilful  to 
play  and  win, — he  will  see  and  judge. 

The  terms  of  admission  to  this  spectacle 
are,  that  he  have  a  certain  solid  and  intelligi 
ble  way  of  living  of  his  own  ;  some  method  of 
answering  the  inevitable  needs  of  human  life  ; 
proof  that  he  has  played  with  skill  and  success ; 
that  he  has  evinced  the  temper,  stoutness,  and 
the  range  of  qualities  which,  among  his  con 
temporaries  and  countrymen,  entitle  him  to 
fellowship  and  trust.  For,  the  secrets  of  life 
are  not  shown  except  to  sympathy  and  like 
ness.  Men  do  not  confide  themselves  to  boys, 
or  coxcombs,  or  pedants,  but  to  their  peers. 
Some  wise  limitation,  as  the  modern  phrase  is ; 
some  condition  between  the  extremes,  and 
having  itself  a  positive  quality ;  some  stark 
and  sufficient  man,  who  is  not  salt  or  sugar, 
but  sufficiently  related  to  the  world  to  do 
justice  to  Paris  or  London,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  a  vigorous  and  original  thinker,  whom 
cities  cannot  overawe,  but  who  uses  them, — 
is  the  fit  person  to  occupy  this  ground  of 
speculation. 

These  qualities  meet  in  the  character  of 
Montaigne.  And  yet,  since  the  personal  re 
gard  which  I  entertain  for  Montaigne  may  be 


or,  Sbe  Sceptic        153 


unduly  great,  I  will,  under  the  shield  of  this 
prince  of  egotists,  offer,  as  an  apology  for 
electing  him  as  the  representative  of  skepti 
cism,  a  word  or  two  to  explain  how  my  love 
began  and  grew  for  this  admirable  gossip. 

A  single  odd  volume  of  Cotton's  translation 
of  the  Essays  remained  to  me  from  my  father's 
library,  when  a  boy.  It  lay  long  neglected, 
until,  after  many  years,  when  I  was  newly 
escaped  from  college,  I  read  the  book,  and 
procured  the  remaining  volumes.  I  remember 
the  delight  and  wonder  in  which  I  lived  with 
it.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  had  myself  written 
the  book,  in  some  former  life,  so  sincerely  it 
spoke  to  my  thought  and  experience.  It  hap 
pened,  when  in  Paris,  in  1833,  that,  in  the  cem 
etery  of  Pere  le  Chaise,  I  came  to  a  tomb  of  Au 
gustus  Collignon,  who  died  in  1830,  aged  sixty- 
eight  years,  and  who,  said  the  monument,  "  lived 
to  do  right,  and  had  formed  himself  to  virtue  on 
the  Essays  of  Montaigne."  Some  years  later, 
I  became  acquainted  with  an  accomplished 
English  poet,  John  Sterling  ;  and,  in  prosecut 
ing  my  correspondence,  I  found  that,  from  a 
love  of  Montaigne,  he  had  made  a  pilgrimage 
to  his  chateau,  still  standing  near  Castellan, 
in  Perigord,  and,  after  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  had  copied  from  the  walls  of  his  library 
the  inscriptions  which  Montaigne  had  written 
there.  That  Journal  of  Mr.  Sterling's,  pub 
lished  in  the  Westminster  Review,  Mr.  Hazlitt 
has  reprinted  in  the  Prolegomena  to  his  edition 


iS4  'Representative  /Ren 


of  the  Essays.  I  heard  with  pleasure  that  one 
of  the  newly-discovered  autographs  of  William 
Shakspeare  'vas  in  a  copy  of  Florio's  transla 
tion  of  Montaigne.  It  is  the  only  book  which 
we  certainly  know  to  have  been  in  the  poet's 
library.  And,  oddly  enough,  the  duplicate 
copy  of  Florio,  which  the  British  Museum 
purchased,  with  a  view  of  protecting  the 
Shakspeare  autograph  (as  I  was  informed  in 
the  Museum),  turned  out  to  have  the  autograph 
of  Ben  Jonson  in  the  fly-leaf.  Leigh  Hunt 
relates  of  Lord  Byron,  that  Montaigne  was  the 

J  t  o 

only  great  writer  of  past  times  whom  he  read 
with  avowed  satisfaction.  Other  coincidences, 
not  needful  to  be  mentioned  here,  concurred 
to  make  this  old  Gascon  still  new  and  immortal 
for  me. 

In  1571,  on  the  death  of  his  father,  Mon 
taigne,  then  thirty-eight  years  old,  retired  from 
the  practice  of  law,  at  Bordeaux,  and  settled 
himself  on  his  estate.  Though  he  had  been  a 
man  of  pleasure,  and  sometimes  a  courtier,  his 
studious  habits  now  grew  on  him,  and  he  loved 
the  compass,  staidness,  and  independence  of 
the  country  gentleman's  life.  He  took  up  his 
economy  in  good  earnest,  and  made  his  farms 
yield  the  most.  Downright  and  plain-dealing, 
and  abhorring  to  be  deceived  or  to  deceive,  he 
was  esteemed  in  the  country  for  his  sense  and 
probity.  In  the  civil  wars  of  the  League, 
which  converted  every  house  into  a  fort,  Mon 
taigne  kept  his  gates  open,  and  his  house  with- 


/fcontaigne;  or,  Cbe  Sfceptfc        155 


out  defence.  All  parties  freely  came  and  went, 
his  courage  and  honor  being  universally  es 
teemed.  The  neighboring  lords  and  gentry 
brought  jewels  and  papers  to  him  for  safe-keep 
ing.  Gibbon  reckons,  in  these  bigoted  times, 
but  two  men  of  liberality  in  France, — Henry 
IV.  and  Montaigne. 

Montaigne  is  the  frankest  and  honestest  of 
all  writers.  His  French  freedom  runs  into 
grossness ;  but  he  has  anticipated  all  censures 
by  the  bounty  of  his  own  confessions.  In  his 
times,  books  were  written  to  one  sex  only,  and 
almost  all  were  written  in  Latin  ;  so  that,  in  a 
humorist,  a  certain  nakedness  of  statement 
was  permitted,  which  our  manners,  of  a  litera 
ture  addressed  equally  to  both  sexes,  do  not 
allow.  But,  though  a  biblical  plainness,  coupled 
with  a  most  uncanonical  levity,  may  shut  his 
pages  to  many  sensitive  readers,  yet  the  offence 
is  superficial.  He  parades  it :  he  makes  the 
most  of  it ;  nobody  can  think  or  say  worse  of 
him  than  he  does.  He  pretends  to  most  of 
the  vices ;  and,  if  there  be  any  virtue  in  him, 
he  says,  it  got  in  by  stealth.  There  is  no  man, 
in  his  opinion,  who  has  not  deserved  hanging 
five  or  six  times  ;  and  he  pretends  no  exception 
in  his  own  behalf.  "  Five  or  six  as  ridiculous 
stories,"  too,  he  says,  "  can  be  told  of  me,  as 
of  any  man  living."  But,  with  all  this  really 
superfluous  frankness,  the  opinion  of  an  invin 
cible  probity  grows  into  every  reader's  mind. 

"When  I  the  most  strictly  and  religiously 


156  "Representative 


confess  myself,  I  find  that  the  best  virtue  I 
have  has  in  it  some  tincture  of  vice  ;  and  I  am 
afraid  that  Plato,  in  his  purest  virtue  (I,  who 
am  as  sincere  and  perfect  a  lover  of  virtue  of 
that  stamp  as  any  other  whatever),  if  he  had 
listened,  and  laid  his  ear  close  to  himself, 
would  have  heard  some  jarring  sound  of 
human  mixture  ;  but  faint  and  remote,  and 
only  to  be  perceived  by  himself." 

Here  is  an  impatience  and  fastidiousness  at 
color  or  pretence  of  any  kind.  He  has  been 
in  courts  so  long  as  to  have  conceived  a  furi 
ous  disgust  at  appearances  ;  he  will  indulge 
himself  with  a  little  cursing  and  swearing  ;  he 
will  talk  with  sailors  and  gypsies,  use  flash  and 
street  ballads  :  he  has  stayed  in-doors  till  he  is 
deadly  sick  :  he  will  to  the  open  air,  though  it 
rain  bullets.  He  has  seen  too  much  of  gentle 
men  of  the  long  robe,  until  he  wishes  for  can 
nibals  ;  and  is  so  nervous,  by  factitious  life, 
that  he  thinks,  the  more  barbarous  man  is,  the 
better  he  is.  He  likes  his  saddle.  You  may 
read  theology,  and  grammar,  and  metaphysics 
elsewhere.  Whatever  you  get  here,  shall 
smack  of  the  earth  and  of  real  life,  sweet,  or 
smart,  or  stinging.  He  makes  no  hesitation  to 
entertain  you  with  the  records  of  his  disease  ; 
and  his  journey  to  Italy  is  quite  full  of  that 
matter.  He  took  and  kept  this  position  of 
equilibrium.  Over  his  name,  he  drew  an  em 
blematic  pair  of  scales,  and  wrote  Qiie  scats 
je?  under  it.  As  I  look  at  his  effigy  opposite 


flbontakjne ;  or,  £be  Sfceptfc        157 


the  title-page,  I  seem  to  hear  him  say,  "  You 
may  play  old  Poz,  if  you  will ;  you  may  rail 
and  exaggerate, — I  stand  here  for  truth,  and 
will  not,  for  all  the  states,  and  churches, 
and  revenues,  and  personal  reputations  of 
Europe,  overstate  the  dry  fact,  as  I  see  it ; 
I  will  rather  mumble  and  prose  about  what 
I  certainly  know, — my  house  and  barns ;  my 
father,  my  wife,  and  my  tenants  ;  my  old  lean 
bald  pate ;  my  knives  and  forks  :  what  meats 
I  eat,  and  what  drinks  I  prefer ;  and  a  hun 
dred  straws  just  as  ridiculous, — than  I  will 
write,  with  a  fine  crow-quill,  a  fine  .romance. 
I  like  gray  days,  and  autumn  and  winter 
weather.  I  am  gray  and  autumnal  myself, 
and  think  an  undress,  and  old  shoes  that  do 
not  pinch  my  feet,  and  old  friends  who  do  not 
constrain  me,  and  plain  topics  where  I  do  not 
need  to  strain  myself  and  pump  my  brains, 
the  most  suitable.  Our  condition  as  men  is 
risky  and  ticklish  enough.  One  cannot  be 
sure  of  himself  and  his  fortune  an  hour,  but 
he  may  be  whisked  off  into  some  pitiable  or 
ridiculous  plight.  Why  should  I  vapor  and 
play  the  philosopher,  instead  of  ballasting,  the 
best  I  can,  this  dancing  balloon  ?  So,  at  least, 
I  live  within  compass,  keep  myself  ready  for 
action,  and  can  shoot  the  gulf,  at  last,  with 
decency.  If  there  be  anything  farcical  in 
such  a  life,  the  blame  is  not  mine  :  let  it  lie  at 
fate's  and  nature's  door." 

The  Essays,  therefore,  are  an  entertaining 


158  "Representative 


soliloquy  on  every  random  topic  that  comes 
into  his  head ;  treating  everything  without 
ceremony,  yet  with  masculine  sense.  There 
have  been  men  with  deeper  insight ;  but,  one 
would  say,  never  a  man  with  such  abundance 
of  thoughts :  he  is  never  dull,  never  insincere, 
and  has  the  genius  to  make  the  reader  care 
for  all  that  he  cares  for. 

The  sincerity  and  marrow  of  the  man  reaches 
to  his  sentences.  I  know  not  anywhere  the 
book  that  seems  less  written.  It  is  the  lan 
guage  of  conversation  transferred  to  a  book. 
Cut  these  words,  and  they  would  bleed  :  they 
are  vascular  and  alive.  One  has  the  same 
pleasure  in  it  that  we  have  in  listening  to  the 
necessary  speech  of  men  about  their  work, 
when  any  unusual  circumstance  gives  moment 
ary  importance  to  the  dialogue.  For  black 
smiths  and  teamsters  do  not  trip  in  their 
speech  ;  it  is  a  shower  of  bullets.  It  is  Cam 
bridge  men  who  correct  themselves,  and  begin 
again  at  every  half  sentence,  and,  moreover, 
will  pun,  and  refine  too  much,  and  swerve  from 
the  matter  to  the  expression.  Montaigne  talks 
with  shrewdness,  knows  the  world,  and  books, 
and  himself,  and  uses  the  positive  degree : 
never  shrieks,  or  protests,  or  prays  :  no  weak 
ness,  no  convulsion,  no  superlative ;  does  not 
wish  to  jump  out  of  his  skin,  or  play  any 
antics,  or  annihilate  space  or  time ;  but  is 
stout  and  solid  ;  tastes  every  moment  of  the 
day ;  likes  pain,  because  it  makes  him  feel 


flbontatgne ;  or,  Ube  Sfteptfc        159 


himself,  and  realize  things  ;  as  we  pinch  our 
selves  to  know  that  we  are  awake.  He  keeps 
the  plain  ;  he  rarely  mounts  or  sinks  ;  likes  to 
feel  solid  ground,  and  the  stones  underneath. 
His  writing  has  no  enthusiasms,  no  aspiration  ; 
contented,  self-respecting,  and  keeping  the 
middle  of  the  road.  There  is  but  one  excep 
tion, — in  his  love  for  Socrates.  In  speaking 
of  him,  for  once  his  cheek  flushes,  and  his 
style  rises  to  passion. 

Montaigne  died  of  a  quinsy,  at  the  age  of 
sixty,  in  1592.  When  he  came  to  die,  he 
caused  the  mass  to  be  celebrated  in  his  cham 
ber.  At  the  age  of  thirty-three,  he  had  been 
married.  "  But,"  he  says,  "  might  I  have  had 
my  own  will,  I  would  not  have  married  Wisdom 
herself,  if  she  would  have  had  me  :  but  'tis  to 
much  purpose  to  evade  it,  the  common  custom 
and  use  of  life  will  have  it  so.  Most  of  my 
actions  are  guided  by  example,  not  choice." 
In  the  hour  of  death  he  gave  the  same  weight 
to  custom.  Que  seals  je  ?  What  do  I  know. 

This  book  of  Montaigne  the  world  has  en 
dorsed,  by  translating  it  into  all  tongues,  and 
printing  seventy-five  editions  of  it  in  Europe : 
and  that,  too,  a  circulation  somewhat  chosen, 
namely,  among  courtiers,  soldiers,  princes,  men 
of  the  world,  and  men  of  wit  and  generosity. 

Shall  we  say  that  Montaigne  has  spoken 
wisely,  and  given  the  right  and  permanent 
expression  of  the  human  mind,  on  the  conduct 
of  life  ? 


160  •Representative  flfcen 


We  are  natural  believers.  Truth,  or  the 
connection  between  cause  and  effect,  alone 
interests  us.  We  are  persuaded  that  a  thread 
runs  through  all  things  :  all  worlds  are  strung 
on  it,  as  beads  :  and  men,  and  events,  and 
life,  come  to  us,  only  because  of  that  thread : 
they  pass  and  repass,  only  that  we  may  know 
the  direction  and  continuity  of  that  line.  A 
book  or  statement  which  goes  to  show  that 
there  is  no  line,  but  random  and  chaos,  a 
calamity  out  of  nothing,  a  prosperity  and  no 
account  of  it,  a  hero  born  from  a  fool,  a  fool 
from  a  hero, — dispirits  us.  Seen  or  unseen, 
•we  believe  .  the  tie  exists.  Talent  makes 
counterfeit  ties ;  genius  finds  the  real  ones. 
We  hearken  to  the  man  of  science,  because 
we  anticipate  the  sequence  in  natural  phe 
nomena  which  he  uncovers.  We  love  whatever 
affirms,  connects,  preserves  ;  and  dislike  what 
scatters  or  pulls  down.  One  man  appears 
•whose  nature  is  to  all  men's  eyes  conserving 
and  constructive :  his  presence  supposes  a 
•well-ordered  society,  agriculture,  trade,  large 
institutions,  and  empire.  If  these  did  not 
exist,  they  would  begin  to  exist  through  his 
endeavors.  Therefore,  he  cheers  and  comforts 
men,  who  feel  all  this  in  him  very  readily. 
The  nonconformist  and  the  rebel  say  all  man 
ner  of  unanswerable  things  against  the  exist 
ing  republic,  but  discover  to  our  sense  no  plan 
of  house  or  state  of  their  own.  Therefore, 
though  the  town,  and  state,  and  way  of  living, 


flbcmtafgne ;  or,  tTbe  Sfceptfc        161 


which  our  counsellor  contemplated,  mignt  be 
a  very  modest  or  musty  prosperity,  yet  men 
rightly  go  for  him,  and  reject  the  reformer,  so 
long  as  he  comes  only  with  axe  and  crowbar. 

But  though  we  are  natural  conservers  and 
causationists,  and  reject  a  sour,  dumpish  unbe 
lief,  the  skeptical  class,  which  Montaigne  repre 
sents,  have  reason,  and  every  man,  at  some 
time,  belongs  to  it.  Every  superior  mind  will 
pass  through  this  domain  of  equilibration, — I 
should  rather  say,  will  know  how  to  avail  him 
self  of  the  checks  and  balances  in  nature,  as  a 
natural  weapon  against  the  exaggeration  and 
formalism  of  bigots  and  blockheads. 

Skepticism  is  the  attitude  assumed  by  the 
student  in  relation  to  the  particulars  which 
society  adores,  but  which  he  sees  to  be  rever 
ent  only  in  their  tendency  and  spirit.  The 
ground  occupied  by  the  skeptic  is  the  vesti 
bule  of  the  temple.  Society  does  not  like  to 
have  any  breath  of  question  blown  on  the  ex 
isting  order.  But  the  interrogation  of  custom 
at  all  points  is  an  inevitable  stage  in  the  growth 
of  every  superior  mind,  and  is  the  evidence  of 
its  perception  of  the  flowing  power  which  re 
mains  itself  in  all  changes. 

The  superior  mind  will  find  itself  equally  at 
odds  with  the  evils  of  society,  and  with  the 
projects  that  are  offered  to  relieve  them. 
The  wise  skeptic  is  a  bad  citizen ;  no  conserv 
ative  ;  he  sees  the  selfishness  of  property,  and 
the  drowsiness  of  institutions.  But  neither  is 
ii 


1 62  IRepresentattve  dfcen 


he  fit  to  work  with  any  democratic  party  that 
ever  was  constituted  :  for  parties  wish  every 
one  committed,  and  he  penetrates  the  popular 
patriotism.  His  politics  are  those  of  the 
"  Soul's  Errand  "  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  ;  or  of 
Krishna,  in  the  Bhagavat,  "  There  is  none  who 
is  worthy  of  my  love  or  hatred ; "  while  he 
sentences  law,  physic,  divinity,  commerce,  and 
custom.  He  is  a  reformer  :  yet  he  is  no  better 
member  of  the  philanthropic  association.  It 
turns  out  that  he  is  not  the  champion  of  the 
operative,  the  pauper,  the  prisoner,  the  slave. 
It  stands  in  his  mind,  that  our  life  in  this  world 
is  not  of  quite  so  easy  interpretation  as 
churches  and  school-books  say.  He  does  not 
wish  to  take  ground  against  these  benevo 
lences,  to  play  the  part  of  devil's  attorney,  and 
blazon  every  doubt  and  sneer  that  darkens  the 
sun  for  him.  But  he  says,  There  are  doubts. 

I  mean  to  use  the  occasion,  and  celebrate 
the  calendar-day  of  our  Saint  Michel  de  Mon 
taigne,  by  counting  and  describing  these 
doubts  or  negations.  I  wish  to  ferret  them 
out  of  their  holes,  and  sun  them  a  little.  We 
must  do  with  them  as  the  police  do  with  old 
rogues,  who  are  shown  up  to  the  public  at  the 
marshal's  office.  They  will  never  be  so  for 
midable,  when  once  they  have  been  identified 
and  registered.  But  I  mean  honestly  by  them 
• — that  justice  shall  be  done  to  their  terrors.  I 
shall  not  take  Sunday  objections,  made  up  on 
purpose  to  be  put  down.  I  shall  take  the 


fl&ontaigne ;  or,  Cbe  Sfcepttc        165 


worst  I  can  find,  whether  I  can  dispose  of 
them,  or  they  of  me. 

I  do  not  press  the  skepticism  of  the  materi 
alist.  I  know  the  quadruped  opinion  will  not 
prevail.  'Tis  of  no  importance  what  bats  and 
oxen  think.  The  first  dangerous  symptom  I 
report,  is,  the  levity  of  intellect ;  as  if  it  were 
fatal  to  earnestness  to  know  much.  Knowl 
edge  is  the  knowing  that  we  cannot  know. 
The  dull  pray  ;  the  geniuses  are  light  mockers. 
How  respectable  is  earnestness  on  every  plat 
form  !  but  intellect  kills  it.  Nay,  San  Carlo, 
my  subtle  and  admirable  friend,  one  of  the 
most  penetrating  of  men,  finds  that  all  direct 
ascension,  even  of  lofty  piety,  leads  to  this 
ghastly  insight,  and  sends  back  the  votary  or 
phaned.  My  astonishing  San  Carlo  thought 
the  lawgivers  and  saints  infected.  They  found 
the  ark  empty  ;  saw,  and  would  not  tell ;  and 
tried  to  choke  off  their  approaching  followers, 
by  saying,  "  Action,  action,  my  'dear  fellows, 
is  for  you  !  "  Bad  as  was  to  me  this  detection, 
by  San  Carlo,  this  frost  in  July,  this  blow  from 
a  brick,  there  was  still  a  worse,  namely,  the 
cloy  or  satiety  of  the  saints.  In  the  mount  of 
vision,  ere  they  have  yet  risen  from  their 
knees,  they  say,  "  We  discover  that  this  our 
homage  and  beatitude  is  partial  and  deformed  • 
we  must  fly  for  relief  to  the  suspected  and 
reviled  Intellect,  to  the  Understanding,  the 
Mephistopheles,  to  the  gymnastics  of  talent." 

This  is  hobgoblin  the  first ;  and,  though  it 


1 64  "Representative 


has  been  the  subject  of  much  elegy,  in  out 
nineteenth  century,  from  Byron,  Goethe,  and 
other  poets  of  less  fame,  not  to  mention  many 
distinguished  private  observers, — I  confess  it 
is  not  very  affecting  to  my  imagination  ;  for  it 
seems  to  concern  the  shattering  of  baby-houses 
and  crockery-shops.  What  flutters  the  church 
of  Rome,  or  of  England,  or  of  Geneva,  or  of 
Boston,  may  yet  be  very  far  from  touching 
any  principle  of  faith.  I  think  that  the  in 
tellect  and  moral  sentiment  are  unanimous ; 
and  that,  though  philosophy  extirpates  bug 
bears,  yet  it  supplies  the  natural  checks  of 
vice,  and  polarity  to  the  soul.  I  think  that 
the  wiser  a  man  is,  the  more  stupendous  he 
finds  the  natural  and  moral  economy,  and  lifts 
himself  to  a  more  absolute  reliance. 

There  is  the  power  of  moods,  each  setting 
at  nought  all  but  its  own  tissue  of  facts  and 
beliefs.  There  is  the  power  of  complexions, 
obviously  modifying  the  dispositions  and  senti 
ments.  The  beliefs  and  unbeliefs  appear  to  be 
structural ;  and,  as  soon  as  each  man  attains 
the  poise  and  vivacity  which  allow  the  whole 
machinery  to  play,  he  will  not  need  extreme 
examples,  but  will  rapidly  alternate  all  opin 
ions  in  his  own  life.  Our  life  is  March 
weather,  savage  and  serene  in  one  hour.  We 
go  forth  austere,  dedicated,  believing  in  the 
iron  links  of  Destiny,  and  will  not  turn  on  our 
heel  to  save  our  life  :  but  a  book,  or  a  bust,  or 
only  the  sound  of  a  name,  shoots  a  spark 


/Rontaignc ;  or,  Cbe  Sfceptic        165 


through  the  nerves,  and  we  suddenly  believe 
in  will :  my  finger-ring  shall  be  the  seal  of 
Solomon  :  fate  is  for  imbeciles  :  all  is  possible 
to  the  resolved  mind.  Presently,  a  new  experi 
ence  gives  a  new  turn  to  our  thoughts  :  common 
sense  resumes  its  tyranny  :  we  say,  "  Well,  the 
army,  after  all,  is  the  gate  to  fame,  manners,  and 
poetry  :  and,  look  you, — on  the  whole,  selfish 
ness  plants  best,  prunes  best,  makes  the  best 
commerce,  and  the  best  citizen."  Are  the 
opinions  of  a  man  on  right  and  wrong,  on  fate 
and  causation,  at  the  mercy  of  a  broken  sleep  or 
an  indigestion  ?  Is  his  belief  in  God  and  Duty 
no  deeper  than  a  stomach  evidence  ?  And  what 
guaranty  for  the  permanence  of  his  opinions  ? 
I  like  not  the  French  celerity, — a  new  church 
and  state  once  a  week. — This  is  the  second 
negation ;  and  I  shall  let  it  pass  for  what  it 
will.  As  far  as  it  asserts  rotation  of  states  of 
mind,  I  suppose  it  suggests  its  own  remedy, 
namely,  in  the  record  of  larger  periods.  What 
is  the  mean  of  many  states  ;  of  all  the  states  ? 
Does  the  general  voice  of  ages  affirm  any  prin 
ciple,  or  is  no  community  of  sentiment  discover 
able  in  distant  times  and  places  ?  And  when  it 
shows  the  power  of  self-interest,  I  accept  that 
as  a  part  of  the  divine  law,  and  must  recon 
cile  it  with  aspiration  the  best  I  can. 

The  word  Fate,  or  Destiny,  expresses  the 
sense  of  mankind,  in  all  ages, — that  the  laws 
of  the  world  do  not  always  befriend,  but  often 
hurt  ,-tnd  crush  us.  Fate,  in  the  shape  of 


166  "Representative  fl&en 


Kinde  or  nature,  grows  over  us  like  grass. 
We  paint  Time  with  a  scythe ;  Love  and 
Fortune,  blind  ;  and  Destiny,  deaf.  We  have 
too  little  power  of  resistance  against  this  feroc 
ity  which  champs  us  up.  What  front  can  we 
make  against  these  unavoidable,  victorious, 
maleficent  forces  ?  What  can  I  do  against 
the  influence  of  Race,  in  my  history  ?  What 
can  I  do  against  hereditary  and  constitutional, 
habits,  against  scrofula,  lymph,  impotence  ? 
against  climate,  against  barbarism,  in  my 
country  ?  I  can  reason  down  or  deny  every 
thing,  except  this  perpetual  Belly :  feed  he  must 
and  will,  and  I  cannot  make  him  respectable. 

But  the  main  resistance  which  the  affirmative 
impulse  finds,  and  one  including  all  others,  is 
in  the  doctrine  of  the  Illusionists.  There  is  a 
painful  rumor  in  circulation,  that  we  have  been 
practised  upon  in  all  the  principal  perform 
ances  of  life,  and  free  agency  is  the  emptiest 
name.  We  have  been  sopped  and  drugged 
with  the  air,  with  food,  with  woman,  with  chil 
dren,  with  sciences,  with  events  which  leaves  us 
exactly  where  they  found  us.  The  mathematics, 
'tis  complained,  leave  the  mind  where  they  find 
it  :  so  do  all  sciences  ;  and  so  do  all  events  and 
actions.  I  find  a  man  who  has  passed  through 
all  the  sciences,  the  churl  he  was  ;  and,  through 
all  the  offices,  learned,  civil,  and  social,  can 
detect  the  child.  We  are  not  the  less  -neces 
sitated  to  dedicate  life  to  them.  In  fact,  we 


or,  iTbe  Sfteptfc        167 


may  come  to  accept  it  as  the  fixed  rule  and 
theory  of  our  state  of  education,  that  God  is 
a  substance,  and  his  method  is  illusion.  The 
eastern  sages  owned  the  goddess  Yoganidra. 
the  great  illusory  energy  of  Vishnu,  by  whom, 
as  utter  ignorance,  the  whole  world  is  beguiled, 
Or,  shall  I  state  it  thus  ? — The  astonishment 
of  life,  is,  the  absence  of  any  appearance  of 
reconciliation  between  the  theory  and  practice 
of  life.  Reason,  the  prized  reality,  the  Law, 
is  apprehended,  now  and  then,  for  a  serene 
and  profound  moment,  amidst  the  hubbub  of 
cares  and  works  which  have  no  direct  bearing 
on  it ; — is  then  lost,  for  months  or  years,  and 
again  found,  for  an  interval,  to  be  lost  again. 
If  we  compute  it  in  time,  we  may,  in  fifty  years, 
have  half  a  dozen  reasonable  hours.  But  what 
are  these  cares  and  works  the  better?  A 
method  in  the  world  we  do  not  see,  but  this 
parallelism  of  great  and  little,  which  never  react 
on  each  other,  nor  discover  the  smallest  ten 
dency  to  converge.  Experiences,  fortunes, 
governings,  readings,writings  are  nothing  to  the 
purpose ;  as  when  a  man  comes  into  the  room, 
it  does  not  appear  whether  he  has  been  fed  on 
yams  or  buffalo, — he  has  contrived  to  get  so 
much  bone  and  fibre  as  he  wants,  out  of  rice  or 
out  of  snow.  So  vast  is  the  disproportion 
between  the  sky  of  law  and  the  pismire  of  per 
formance  under  it,  that,  whether  he  is  a  man 
of  worth  or  a  sot,  is  not  so  great  a  matter  as 
we  say.  Shall  I  add,  as  one  juggle  of  this  en- 


1 68  "Representative  flben 


chantment,  the  stunning  non-intercourse  law 
which  makes  cooperation  impossible  ?  The 
young  spirit  pants  to  enter  society.  But  all  the 
ways  of  culture  and  greatness  lead  to  solitary 
imprisonment.  He  has  been  often  baulked. 
He  did  not  expect  a  sympathy  with  his  thought 
from  the  village,  but  he  went  with  it  to  the 
chosen  and  intelligent,  and  found  no  enter 
tainment  for  it,  but  mere  misapprehension,  dis 
taste,  and  scoffing.  Men  are  strangely  mistimed 
and  misapplied ;  and  the  excellence  of  each 
is  an  inflamed  individualism  which  separates 
him  more. 

There  are  these,  and  more  than  these  dis 
eases  of  thought,  which  our  ordinary  teachers 
do  not  attempt  to  remove.  Now  shall  we, 
because  a  good  nature  inclines  us  to  virtue's 
side,  say,  There  are  no  doubts, — and  lie  for 
the  right  ?  Is  life  to  be  led  in  a  brave  or  in  a 
cowardly  manner  ?  and  is  not  the  satisfaction 
of  the  doubts  essential  to  all  manliness  ?  Is 
the  name  of  virtue  to  be  a  barrier  to  that  which 
is  virtue  ?  Can  you  not  believe  that  a  man  of 
earnest  and  burly  habit  may  find  small  good  in 
tea,  essays,  and  catechism,  and  want  a  rougher 
instruction,  want  men,  labor,  trade,  farming. 
war,  hunger,  plenty,  love,  hatred,  doubt,  and 
terror,  to  make  tX  .gs  plain  to  him  ;  and  has  he 
not  a  right  to  insist  on  being  convinced  in  his 
own  way  ?  When  he  is  convinced,  he  will  be 
worth  the  pains. 

Belief  consists  in  accepting  the  affirmations 


dfeontaigne ;  or,  £be  Sfceptic         169 


9i  the  soul ;  unbenef  in  denying  them.  Some 
minds  are  incapable  of  skepticism.  The  doubts 
they  profess  to  entertain  are  rather  a  civility 
or  accommodation  to  the  common  discourse  of 
their  company.  They  may  well  give  them 
selves  leave  to  speculate,  for  they  are  secure  of 
a  return.  Once  admitted  to  the  heaven  of 
thoughtthey  see  no  relapse  into  night,  but  infi 
nite  invitation  on  the  other  side.  Heaven  is 
within  heaven,  and  sky  over  sky,  and  they  are 
encompassed  with  divinities.  Others  there  are, 
to  whom  the  heaven  is  brass,  and  it  shuts  down 
to  the  surface  of  the  earth.  It  is  a  question  of 
temperament,  or  of  more  or  less  immersion  in 
nature.  The  last  class  must  needs  have  a 
reflex  or  parasite  faith  ;  not  a  sight  of  realities, 
but  an  instinctive  reliance  on  the  seers  and  be 
lievers  of  realities.  The  manners  and  thoughts 
of  believers  astonish  them,  and  convince 
them  that  these  have  seen  something  which  is 
hid  from  themselves.  But  their  sensual  habit 
would  fix  the  believer  to  his  last  position,  whilst 
he  as  inevitably  advances ;  and  presently  the 
unbeliever,  for  love  of  belief,  burns  the  be 
liever. 

Great  believers  are  always  reckoned  infi 
dels,  impracticable,  fantastic,  atheistic,  and 
really  men  of  no  account.  The  spiritualist 
finds  himself  driven  to  express  his  faith  by  a 
series  of  skepticisms.  Charitable  souls  come 
with  their  projects,  and  ask  his  cooperation. 
How  can  he  hesitate?  It  is  the  rule  of  mere 


170  "Representative 


comity  and  courtesy  to  agree  where  you  can, 
and  to  turn  your  sentence  with  something 
auspicious,  and  not  freezing  and  sinister. 
But  he  is  forced  to  say,  "  O,  these  things  will 
be  as  they  must  be  :  what  can  you  do  ?  These 
particular  griefs  and  crimes  are  the  foliage 
and  fruit  of  such  trees  as  we  see  growing.  It 
is  vain  to  complain  of  the  leaf  or  the  berry : 
cut  it  off ;  it  will  bear  another  just  as  bad. 
You  must  begin  your  cure  lower  down."  The 
generosities  of  the  day  prove  an  intractable 
element  for  him.  The  people's  questions  are 
not  his ;  their  methods  are  not  his ;  and, 
against  all  the  dictates  of  good  nature,  he  is 
driven  to  say,  he  has  no  pleasure  in  them. 

Even  the  doctrines  dear  to  the  hope  of  man, 
of  the  divine  Providence,  and  of  the  immor 
tality  of  the  soul,  his  neighbors  cannot  put  the 
statement  so  that  he  shall  affirm  it.  But  he 
denies  out  of  more  faith,  and  not  less.  He 
denies  out  of  honesty.  He  had  rather  stand 
charged  with  the  imbecility  of  skepticism, 
than  with  untruth.  I  believe,  he  says,  in  the 
moral  design  of  the  universe  ;  it  exists  hos 
pitably  for  the  weal  of  the  souls ;  but  your 
dogmas  seem  to  me  caricatures  ;  why  should 
I  make  believe  them  ?  Will  any  say,  this  is 
cold  and  infidel  ?  The  wise  and  magnani 
mous  will  not  say  so.  They  will  exult  in  his 
far-sighted  good-will,  that  can  abandon  to  the 
adversary  all  the  ground  of  tradition  and 
common  belief,  without  losing  a  jot  of  strength. 


flfcontafgne ;  or,  Gbe  Skeptic        171 


It  sees  to  the  end  of  all  transgression. 
George  Fox  saw  "  that  there  was  an  ocean  of 
darkness  and  death ;  but  withal,  an  infinite 
ocean  of  light  and  love  which  flowed  over  that 
of  darkness." 

The  final  solution  in  which  skepticism  is 
lost  is  in  the  moral  sentiment,  which  never 
forfeits  its  supremacy.  All  moods  may  be 
safely  tried,  and  their  weight  allowed  to  all 
objections  :  the  moral  sentiment  as  easily  out 
weighs  them  all,  as  any  one.  This  is  the  drop 
which  balances  the  sea.  I  play  with  the  mis 
cellany  of  facts,  and  take  those  superficial 
views  which  we  call  skepticism  ;  but  I  know 
that  they  will  presently  appear  to  me  in  that 
order  which  makes  skepticism  impossible.  A 
man  of  thought  must  feel  the  thought  that  is 
parent  of  the  universe ;  that  the  masses  of 
nature  do  undulate  and  flow. 

This  faith  avails  to  the  whole  emergency  of 
life  and  objects.  The  world  is  saturated  with 
deity  and  with  law.  He  is  content  with  just 
and  unjust,  with  sots  and  fools,  with  the 
triumph  of  folly  and  fraud.  He  can  behold 
with  serenity  the  yawning  gulf  between  the 
ambition  of  man  and  his  power  of  perform 
ance,  between  the  demand  and  supply  of 
power,  which  makes  the  tragedy  of  all  souls. 

Charles  Fourier  announced  that  "the  at 
tractions  of  man  are  proportioned  to  his 
destinies ;  "  in  other  words,  that  every  desire 
predicts  its  own  satisfaction.  Yet,  all  ex- 


i7  2  IReprcscntative 


perience  exhibits  the  reverse  of  this  ;  the  in- 
competency  of  power  is  the  universal  grief  of 
young  and  ardent  minds.  They  accuse  the 
divine  Providence  of  a  certain  parsimony.  It 
has  shown  the  heaven  and  earth  to  every  child, 
and  filled  him  with  a  desire  for  the  whole  ;  a 
desire  raging,  infinite  ;  a  hunger,  as  of  space 
to  be  filled  with  planets  ;  a  cry  of  famine,  as 
of  devils  for  souls.  Then  for  the  satisfaction, 
—  to  each  man  is  administered  a  single  drop, 
a  bead  of  dew  of  vital  power  per  day,  —  a  cup 
as  large  as  space,  and  one  drop  of  the  water 
of  life  in  it.  Each  man  woke  in  the  morning, 
with  an  appetite  that  could  eat  the  solar 
system  like  a  cake  ;  a  spirit  for  action  and 
passion  without  bounds  ;  he  could  lay  his 
hand  on  the  morning  star  ;  he  could  try  con 
clusions  with  gravitation  or  chemistry;  but, 
on  the  first  motion  to  prove  his  strength  — 
hands,  feet,  senses,  gave  way,  and  would  not 
serve  him.  He  was  an  emperor  deserted  by 
his  states,  and  left  to  whistle  by  himself,  or 
thrust  into  a  mob  of  emperors,  all  whistling  : 
and  still  the  sirens  sang,  "The  attractions  are 
proportioned  to  the  destinies."  In  every 
house,  in  the  heart  of  each  maiden,  nd  of 
each  boy,  in  the  soul  of  the  soaring  saint,  this 
chasm  is  found,  —  between  the  largest  promise 
of  ideal  power,  and  the  shabby  experience. 
The  expansivo  nature  of  truth  comes  to  our 
succor,  elastic,  not  to  be  surrounded.  Man 
helps  himself  by  larger  generalizations.  The 


/Ifcontaigne ;  or,  £be  Sfceptic        173 


lesson  of  life  is  practically  to  generalize ;  to 
believe  what  the  years  and  the  centuries  say 
against  the  hours ;  to  resist  the  usurpation  of 
particulars ;  to  penetrate  to  their  catholic 
sense.  Things  seem  to  say  one  thing,  and 
say  the  reverse.  The  appearance  is  immoral ; 
the  result  is  moral.  Things  seem  to  tend 
downward,  to  justify  despondency,  to  promote 
rogues,  to  defeat  the  just ;  and,  by  knaves, 
as  by  martyrs,  the  just  cause  is  carried  for 
ward.  Although  knaves  win  in  every  polit 
ical  struggle,  although  society  seems  to  be 
delivered  over  from  the  hands  of  one  set  of 
criminals  into  the  hands  of  another  set  of 
criminals,  as  fast  as  the  government  is  changed, 
and  the  march  of  civilization  is  a  train  of  fel 
onies,  yet,  general  ends  are  somehow-  an 
swered.  We  see,  now,  events  forced  on,  which 
seem  to  retard  or  retrograde  the  civility  of 
ages.  But  the  world-spirit  is  a  good  swim 
mer,  and  storms  and  waves  cannot  drown  him. 
He  snaps  his  finger  at  laws  :  and  so,  through 
out  history,  heaven  seems  to  affect  low  and 
poor  means.  Through  the  years  and  the  cent 
uries,  through  evil  agents,  through  toys  and 
atoms,  a  great  and  beneficent  tendency  irre 
sistibly  streams. 

Let  a  man  learn  to  look  for  the  permanent 
in  the  mutable  and  fleeting ;  let  him  learn  to 
bear  the  disappearance  of  things  he  was  wont 
to  reverence,  without  losing  his  reverence; 
let  him  learn  that  he  is  here,  not  t&  work,  but 


174  "Representative  flben 

to  be  worked  upon ;  and  that,  though  abyss 
open  under  abyss,  and  opinion  displace 
opinion,  all  are  at  last  contained  in  the  Eternal 
cause. — 

*  It  my  bark  sink,  'tis  to  another  sea.'' 


SHAKSPEARE  ;  OR,  THE  POET. 


WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE. 


V. 

SHAKSPEARE;  OR,  THE  POET. 


GREAT  men  are  more  distinguished  by  range 
and  extent,  than  by  originality.  If  we  require 
the  originality  which  consists  in  weaving,  like 
a  spider,  their  web  from  their  own  bowels  ;  in 
finding  clay,  and  making  bricks,  and  building 
the  house  ;  no  great  men  are  original.  Nor 
does  valuable  originality  consist  in  unlikeness 
to  other  men.  The  hero  is  in  the  press  of 
knights,  and  the  thick  of  events ;  and,  seeing 
what  men  want,  and  sharing  their  desire,  he 
adds  the  needful  length  of  sight  and  of  arm, 
to  come  at  the  desired  point.  The  greatest 
genius  is  the  most  indebted  man.  A  poet  is 
no  rattlebrain,  saying  what  comes  uppermost, 
and,  because  he  says  everything,  saying,  at 
last,  something  good  ;  but  a  heart  in  unison 
with  his  time  and  country.  There  is  nothing 
whimsical  and  fantastic  in  his  production,  but 
sweet  and  sad  earnest,  freighted  with  the 
weightiest  convictions,  and  pointed  with  the 

12  177 


178  "Representative  /Ren 


most  determined  aim  which  any  man  or  class 
knows  of  in  his  times. 

The  Genius  ot  our  life  is  jealous  of  individ 
uals,  and  will  not  have  any  individual  great, 
except  through  the  general.  There  is  no 
choice  to  genius.  A  great  man  does  not  wake 
up  on  some  fine  morning,  and  say,  "  I  am  full 
of  life,  I  will  go  to  sea,  and  find  an  Antarctic 
continent :  to-day  I  will  square  the  circle  :  I 
will  ransack  botany,  and  find  a  new  food  for 
man  :  I  have  a  new  architecture  in  my  mind : 
I  foresee  a  new  mechanic  power ; "  no,  but  he 
finds  himself  in  the  river  of  the  thoughts  and 
events,  forced  onward  by  the  ideas  and  neces 
sities  of  his  contemporaries.  He  stands  where 
all  the  eyes  of  men  look  one  way,  and  their 
hands  all  point  in  the  direction  in  which  he 
should  go.  The  church  has  reared  him  amidst 
rites  and  pomps,  and  he  carries  out  the  advice 
which  her  music  gave  him,  and  builds  a  cathe 
dral  needed  by  her  chants  and  processions. 
He  finds  a  war  raging  :  it  educates  him  by 
trumpet,  in  barracks,  and  he  betters  the  instruc 
tion.  He  finds  two  counties  groping  to  bring 
coal,  or  flour,  or  fish,  from  the  place  of  produc 
tion  to  the  place  of  consumption,  and  he  hits 
on  a  railroad.  Every  master  has  found  his  ma 
terials  collected,  and  his  power  lay  in  his 
sympathy  with  his  people,  and  in  his  love  of 
the  materials  he  wrought  in.  What  an 
economy  of  power  !  and  what  a  compensation 
for  the  shortness  of  life !  All  is  done  to  his 


Sbafcspeare ;  or,  £be  poet          179 


hand.  The  world  has  brought  him  thus  far 
on  his  way.  The  human  race  has  gone  out 
before  him,  sunk  the  hills,  filled  the  hollows, 
and  bridged  the  rivers.  Men,  nations,  poets, 
artisans,  women,  all  have  worked  for  him,  and 
he  enters  into  their  labors.  Choose  any  other 
thing,  out  of  the  line  of  tendency,  out  of  the 
national  feeling  and  history,  and  he  would 
have  all  to  do  for  himself :  his  powers  would 
be  expended  in  the  first  preparations.  Great 
genial  power,  one  would  almost  say,  consists 
in  not  being  original  at  all ;  in  being  altogether 
receptive ;  in  letting  the  world  do  all,  and  suf 
fering  the  spirit  of  the  hour  to  pass  unob 
structed  through  the  mind. 

Shakspeare's  youth  fell  in  a  time  when  the 
English  people  were  importunate  for  dramatic 
entertainments.  The  court  took  offence  easily 
at  political  allusions,  and  attempted  to  sup 
press  them.  The  Puritans,  a  growing  and 
energetic  party,  and  the  religious  among  the 
Anglican  church,  would  suppress  them.  But 
the  people  wanted  them.  Inn-yards,  houses 
without  roofs,  and  extemporaneous  enclosures 
at  country  fairs,  were  the  ready  theatres  of 
strolling  players.  The  people  had  tasted  this 
new  joy ;  and,  as  we  could  not  hope  to  sup 
press  newspapers  now, — no,  not  by  the  strong 
est  party, — neither  then  could  king,  prelate, 
or  puritan,  alone  or  united,  suppress  an  organ, 
which  was  ballad,  epic,  newspaper,  caucus, 
lecture,  punch,  and  library,  at  the  same  time. 


180  "Representative  /Bben 


Probably  king,  prelate,  and  puritan,  all  found 
their  own  account  in  it.  It  had  become,  by 
all  causes,  a  national  interest, — by  no  means 
conspicuous,  so  that  some  great  scholar  would 
have  thought  of  treating  it  in  an  English  his 
tory, — but  not  a  whit  less  considerable,  be 
cause  it  was  cheap,  and  of  no  account,  like  a 
baker's-shop.  The  best  proof  of  its  vitality  is 
the  crowd  of  writers  which  suddenly  broke 
into  this  field  ;  Kyd,  Marlow,  Greene,  Jonson, 
Chapman,  Dekker,  Webster,  Heywood,  Mid- 
dleton,  Peele,  Ford,  Massinger,  Beaumont, 
and  Fletcher. 

The  secure  possession,  by  the  stage,  of  the 
public  mind,  is  of  the  first  importance  to  the 
poet  who  works  for  it.  He  loses  no  time  in 
idle  experiments.  Here  is  audience  and  ex 
pectation  prepared.  In  the  case  of  Shak- 
speare  there  is  much  more.  At  the  time  when 
he  left  Stratford,  and  went  up  to  London,  a 
great  body  of  stage-plays,  of  all  dates  and 
writers,  existed  in  manuscript,  and  were  in 
turn  produced  on  the  boards.  Here  is  the 
Tale  of  Troy,  which  the  audience  will  beat 
hearing  some  part  of  every  week  ;  the  Death 
of  Julius  Caesar,  and  other  stories  out  of  Plu 
tarch,  which  they  never  tire  of ;  a  shelf  full  of 
English  history,  from  the  chronicles  of  Brut 
and  Arthur,  down  to  the  royal  Henries,  which 
men  hear  eagerly ;  and  a  string  of  doleful 
tragedies,  merry  Italian  tales,  and  Spanish 
voyages,  which  all  the  London  'prentices  know. 


Sbafcspeare ;  or,  £be  Ipoet          181 


All  the  mass  has  been  treated,  with  more  or 
less  skill,  by  every  playwright,  and  the  prompter 
has  the  soiled  and  tattered  manuscripts.  It  is 
now  no  longer  possible  to  say  who  wrote  them 
first.  They  have  been  the  property  of  the 
Theatre  so  long,  and  so  many  rising  geniuses 
have  enlarged  or  altered  them,  inserting  a 
speech,  or  a  whole  scene,  or  adding  a  song, 
that  no  man  can  any  longer  claim  copyright 
on  this  work  of  numbers.  Happily,  no  man 
wishes  to.  They  are  not  yet  desired  in  that 
way.  We  have  few  readers,  many  spectators 
and  hearers.  They  had  best  lie  where  they 
are. 

Shakspeare,  in  common  with  his  comrades, 
esteemed  the  mass  of  old  plays,  waste  stock, 
in  which  any  experiment  could  be  freely  tried. 
Had  the  prestige  which  hedges  about  a  modern 
tragedy  existed,  nothing  could  have  been  done. 
The  rude  warm  blood  of  the  living  England 
circulated  in  the  play,  as  in  street-ballads,  and 
gave  body  which  he  wanted  to  his  airy  and 
majestic  fancy.  The  poet  needs  a  ground  in 
popular  tradition  on  which  he  may  work,  and 
which,  again,  may  restrain  his  art  within  the  due 
temperance.  It  holds  him  to  the  people,  sup 
plies  a  foundation  for  his  edifice ;  and,  in 
furnishing  so  much  work  done  to  his  hand, 
leaves  him  at  leisure,  and  in  full  strength  for 
the  audacities  of  his  imagination.  In  short, 
the  poet  owes  to  his  legend  what  sculpture 
owe**  to  the  temple.  Sculpture  in  Egypt,  and 


182  IRepresentatfve  flfcen 


in  Greece,  grew  up  in  subordination  to  archi« 
tecture.  It  was  the  ornament  of  the  temple 
wall :  at  first,  a  rude  relief  carved  on  pediments, 
then  the  relief  became  bolder,  and  a  head  or 
arm  was  projected  from  the  wall,  the  groups 
being  sti£  arrayed  with  reterence  to  the  build 
ing,  which  serves  also  as  a  frame  to  hold  the 
figures ;  and  when,  at  last,  the  greatest»freedom 
of  style  and  treatment  was  reached,  the  pre 
vailing  genius  of  architecture  still  enforced  a 
certain  calmness  and  continence  in  the  statue. 
As  soon  as  the  statue  was  begun  for  itself,  and 
with  no  reference  to  the  temple  or  palace,  the 
art  began  to  decline  :  freak,  extravagance,  and 
exhibition,  took  the  place  of  the  old  temper 
ance.  This  balance-wheel,  which  the  sculptor 
found  in  architecture,  the  perilous  irritability 
of  poetic  talent  found  in  the  accumulated 
dramatic  materials  to  which  the  people  were 
already  wonted,  and  which  had  a  certain  excel 
lence  which  no  single  genius,  however  extraor 
dinary,  could  hope  to  create. 

In  point  of  fact,  it  appears  that  Shakspeare 
did  owe  debts  in  all  directions,  and  was  able 
to  use  whatever  he  found ;  and  the  amount  of 
indebtedness  may  be  inferred  from  Malone'? 
laborious  computations  in  regard  to  the  First, 
Second,  and  Third  parts  of  Henry  VI.,  in 
which,  "  out  of  6043  lines,  1771  were  written 
by  some  author  preceding  Shakspeare  ; 
2373  by  him,  on  the  foundation  laid  by  his 
predecessors  ;  and  1899  were  entirely  his  own," 


Sbaftspeare ;  or,  &be  poet 


And  the  preceding  investigation  hardly  leaves 
a  single  drama  of  his  absolute  invention. 
Malone's  sentence  is  an  important  piece  of 
external  history.  In  Henry  VIII.,  I  think  I 
see  plainly  the  cropping  out  of  the  original 
rock  on  which  his  own  finer  stratum  was  laid. 
The  first  play  was  written  by  a  superior, 
thoughtful  man,  with  a  vicious  ear.  I  can 
mark  his  lines,  and  know  well  their  cadence. 
See  Wolsey's  soliloquy,  and  the  following  scene 
with  Cromwell,  where, — instead  of  the  metre 
of  Shakspeare,  whose  secret  is,  that  the 
thought  constructs  the  tune,  so  that  reading 
for  the  sense  will  best  bring  out  the  rhythm, — 
here  the  lines  are  constructed  on  a  given  tune, 
and  the  verse  has  even  a  trace  of  pulpit  elo 
quence.  But  the  play  contains,  through  all 
its  length,  unmistakable  traits  of  Shakspeare's 
hand,  and  some  passages,  as  the  account  of 
the  coronation,  are  like  autographs.  What  is 
odd,  the  compliment  to  Queen  Elizabeth  is  in 
the  bad  rhythm. 

Shakspeare  knew  that  tradition  supplies  a 
better  fable  than  any  invention  can.  If  he 
lost  any  credit  of  design,  he  augmented  his 
resources  ;  and,  at  that  day  our  petulant  de 
mand  for  originality  was  not  so  much  pressed. 
There  was  no  literature  for  the  million.  The 
universal  reading,  the  cheap  press,  were 
unknown.  A  great  poet,  who  appears  in  illit 
erate  times,  absorbs  into  his  sphere  all  the 
light  which  is  anywhere  radiating.  Every 


184  "Representative  dlben 


intellectual  jewel,  every  flower  of  sentiment, 
it  is  his  fine  office  to  bring  to  his  people  ;  and 
he  comes  to  value  his  memory  equally  with 
his  invention.  He  is  therefore  little  solicitous 
whence  his  thoughts  have  been  derived ; 
whether  through  translation,  whether  through 
tradition,  whether  by  travel  in  distant  countries, 
whether  by  inspiration  ;  from  whatever  source, 
they  are  equally  welcome  to  his  uncritical 
audience.  Nay,  he  borrows  very  near  home. 
Other  men  say  wise  things  as  well  as  he  ;  only 
they  say  a  good  many  foolish  things,  and  do 
not  know  when  they  have  spoken  wisely.  He 
knows  the  sparkle  of  the  true  stone,  and  puts 
it  in  high  place,  wherever  he  finds  it.  Such 
is  the  happy  position  of  Homer,  perhaps ;  of 
Chaucer,  of  Saadi.  They  felt  that  all  wit  was 
their  wit.  And  they  are  librarians  and  his 
toriographers,  as  well  as  poets.  Each  ro 
mancer  was  heir  and  dispenser  of  all  the  hun 
dred  tales  of  the  world, — 

"  Presenting  Thebes'  and  Pelops'  line 
And  the  tale  of  Troy  divine." 

The  influence  "of  Chaucer  is  conspicuous  in 
all  our  early  literature  ;  and,  more  recently, 
not  only  Pope  and  Dryden  have  been  beholden 
to  him,  but,  in  the  whole  society  of  English 
writers,  a  large  unacknowledged  debt  is  easily 
traced.  One  is  charmed  with  the  opulence 
which  feeds  so  many  pensioners.  But  Chaucer 


Sbafcspcate:  or,  ftbe  ipoet          185 


is  a  huge  borrower.  Chaucer,  it  seems,  drevf 
continually,  through  Lydgate  and  Caxton, 
from  Guido  di  Colonna,  whose  Latin  romance 
of  the  Trojan  war  was  in  turn  a  compilation 
from  Dares  Phrygius,  Ovid,  and  Statius. 
Then  Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  and  the  Provengal 
poets,  are  his  benefactors :  the  Romaunt  of 
the  Rose  is  only  judicious  translation  from 
William  of  Lorris  and  John  of  Meun  :  Troilus 
and  Creseide,  from  Lollius  of  Urbino :  The 
Cock  and  the  Fox,  from  the  Lais  of  Marie : 
The  House  of  Fame,  from  the  French  or 
Italian  :  and  poor  Gower  he  uses  as  if  he  were 
only  a  brick-kiln  or  stone-quarry  out  of  which 
to  build  his  house.  He  steals  by  this  apology, 
— that  what  he  takes  has  no  worth  where  he 
finds  it,  and  the  greatest  where  he  leaves  it. 
It  has  come  to  be  practically  a  sort  of  rule  in 
literature,  that  a  man,  having  once  shown  him 
self  capable  of  original  writing,  is  entitled 
thenceforth  to  steal  from  the  writings  of  others 
at  discretion.  Thought  is  the  property  of  him 
who  can  entertain  it ;  and  of  him  who  can 
adequately  place  it.  A  certain  awkwardness 
marks  the  use  of  borrowed  thoughts  ;  but,  as 
soon  as  we  have  learned  what  to  do  with  them, 
they  become  our  own. 

Thus,  all  originality  is  relative.  Every 
thinker  is  retrospective.  The  learned  member 
of  the  legislature,  at  Westminster,  or  at 
Washington,  speaks  and  votes  for  thousands. 
Show  us  the  constituency,  and  the  now  invisi- 


1 86  IRepresentative 


ble  channels  by  which  the  senator  is  made  aware 
of  their  wishes,  the  crowd  of  practical  and 
knowing  men,  who,  by  correspondence  or  con 
versation,  are  feeding  him  with  evidence, 
anecdotes,  and  estimates,  and  it  will  bereava 
his  fine  attitude  and  resistance  of  something 
of  their  impressiveness.  As  Sir  Robert  Peel 
and  Mr.  Webster  vote,  so  Locke  and  Rousseau 
think  for  thousands ;  and  so  there  were  fount 
ains  all  around  Homer,  Menu,  Saadi,  or 
Milton,  from  which  they  drew ;  friends,  lovers, 
books,  traditions,  proverbs, — all  perished, — 
which,  if  seen,  would  go  to  reduce  the  wonder. 
Did  the  bard  speak  with  authority  ?  Did  he 
feel  himself  overmatched  by  any  companion  ? 
The  appeal  is  to  the  consciousness  of  the 
writer.  Is  there  at  last  in  his  breast  a  Delphi 
whereof  to  ask  concerning  any  thought  or 
thing,  whether  it  be  verily  so,  yea  or  nay? 
and  to  have  answer,  and  to  rely  on  that? 
All  the  debts  which  such  a  man  could  contract 
to  other  wit,  would  never  disturb  his  conscious 
ness  of  originality  :  for  the  ministrations  of 
books,  and  of  other  minds,  are  a  whiff  of  smoke 
to  that  most  private  reality  with  which  he  has 
conversed. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  what  is  best  written  or 
done  by  genius,  in  the  world,  was  no  man's 
work,  but  came  by  wide  social  labor,  when  a 
thousand  wrought  like  one,  sharing  the  same 
impulse.  Our  English  Bible  is  a  wonderful 
specimen  of  the  strength  and  music  of  the 


or,  Cbe  poet          187 


English  language.  But  it  was  not  made  by 
one  man,  or  at  one  time  ;  but  centuries  and 
churches  brought  it  to  perfection.  There  never 
was  a  time  when  there  was  not  some  translation 
existing.  The  Liturgy,  admired  for  its  energy 
and  pathos,  is  an  anthology  of  the  piety  of 
ages  and  nations,  a  translation  of  the  prayers 
and  forms  of  the  Catholic  church, — these  col 
lected,  too,  in  long  periods,  from  the  prayers 
and  meditations  of  every  saint  and  sacred 
writer,  all  over  the  world.  Grotius  makes  the 
like  remark  in  respect  to  the  Lord's  Prayer,  that 
the  single  clauses  of  which  it  is  composed  were 
already  in  use,  in  the  time  of  Christ,  in  the 
rabbinical  forms.  He  picked  out  the  grains  of 
gold.  The  nervous  language  of  the  Common 
Law,  the  impressive  forms  of  our  courts,  and 
the  precision  and  substantial  truth  of  the  legal 
distinctions,  are  the  contribution  of  all  the  sharp- 
sighted,  strong-minded  men  who  have  lived  in 
the  countries  where  these  laws  govern.  The 
translation  of  Plutarch  gets  its  excellence  by 
being  translation  on  translation.  There  never 
was  a  time  when  there  was  none.  All  the  truly 
diomatic  and  national  phrases  are  kept,  and 
all  others  successively  picked  out,  and  thrown 
away.  Something  like  the  same  process  had 
gone  on.  long  before,  with  the  originals  of 
these  books.  The  world  takes  liberties  with 
world-books.  Vedas,  ^Esop's  Fables,  Pilpay, 
Arabian  Nights,  Cid,  Iliad,  Robin  Hood, 
Scottish  Minstrelsy,  are  not  the  work  of  single 


1 88  "Representative  /nben 


men.  In  the  composition  of  such  works,  the 
time  thinks,  the  market  thinks,  the  mason,  the 
carpenter,  the  merchant,  the  farmer,  the  fop, 
all  think  for  us.  Every  book  supplies  its  time 
with  one  good  word  ;  every  municipal  law, 
every  trade,  every  folly  of  the  day,  and  the 
generic  catholic  genius  who  is  not  afraid  or 
ashamed  to  owe  his  originality  to  the  originality 
of  all,  stands  with  the  next  age  as  the  recorder 
and  embodiment  of  his  own. 

We  have  to  thank  the  researches  of  anti 
quaries,  and  the  Shakspeare  Society,  for  as 
certaining  the  steps  of  the  English  drama,  from 
the  Mysteries  celebrated  in  churches  and  by 
churchmen,  and  the  final  detachment  from  the 
church,  and  the  completion  of  secular  plays, 
from  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  and  Gammer  Gurton's 
Needle,  down  to  the  possession  of  the  stage  by 
the  very  pieces  which  Shakspeare  altered,  re 
modelled,  and  finally  made  his  own.  Elated 
with  success,  and  piqued  by  the  growing  interest 
of  the  problem,  they  have  left  no  book-stall 
unsearched,  no  chest  in  a  garret  unopened,  no 
file  of  old  yellow  accounts  to  decompose  in 
damp  and  worms,  so  keen  was  the  hope  to  dis 
cover  whether  the  boy  Shakspeare  poached  or 
not,  whether  he  held  horses  at  the  theatre  door, 
whether  he  kept  school,  and  why  he  left  in  his 
will  only  his  second-best  bed  to  Ann  Hathaway, 
his  wife. 

There  is  somewhat  touching  in  the  madness 
with  which  the  passing  age  mischooses  the 


Sbafc0peare ;  or,  ZTbc  poet 


object  on  which  all  candles  shine,  and  all  eyes 
are  turned  ;  the  care  with  which  it  registers 
every  trifle  touching  Queen  Elizabeth,  and 
King  James,  and  the  Essexes,  Leicesters, 
Burleighs,  and  Buckinghams  ;  and  let  pass  with 
out  a  single  valuable  note  the  founder  of  another 
dynasty,  which  alone  will  cause  the  Tudor 
dynasty  to  be  remembered, — the  man  who 
carries  the  Saxon  race  in  him  by  the  inspira 
tion  which  feeds  him,  and  on  whose  thoughts 
the  foremost  people  of  the  world  are  now  for 
some  ages  to  be  nourished,  and  minds  to  re 
ceive  this  and  not  another  bias.  A  popular 
player, — nobody  suspected  he  was  the  poet  of 
the  human  race ;  and  the  secret  was  kept  as 
faithfully  from  poets  and  intellectual  men,  as 
from  courtiers  and  frivolous  people.  Bacon, 
who  took  the  inventory  of  the  human  under 
standing  for  his  times,  never  mentioned  his 
name.  Ben  Jonson,  though  we  have  strained 
his  few  words  of  regard  and  panegyric,  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  elastic  fame  whose  first  vi 
brations  he  was  attempting.  He  no  doubt 
thought  the  praise  he  has  conceded  to  him 
generous,  and  esteemed  himself,  out  of  all 
question,  the  better  poet  of  the  two. 

If  it  need  wit  to  know  wit,  according  to  the 
proverb,  Shakspeare's  time  should  be  capable 
of  recognizing  it.  Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  born 
four  years  after  Shakspeare,  and  died  twenty- 
three  years  after  him  ;  and  I  find  among  his 
correspondents  and  acquaintances,  the  follow- 


igo  IReprcsentative 


ing  persons  :  Theodore  Beza,  Isaac  Ca^iubon, 
Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Earl  of  Essex,  Lord  Bacon,  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  John  Milton,  Sir  Henry  Vane, 
Isaac  Walton,  Dr.  Donne,  Abraham  Cowley, 
Bellarmine,  Charles  Cotton,  John  Pym,  John 
Hales,  Kepler,  Vieta,  Albericus  Gentilis,  Paul 
Sarpi,  Arminius  ;  with  all  of  whom  exist  some 
token  of  his  having  communicated,  without 
enumerating  many  others,  whom  doubtless  he 
saw, — Shakspeare,  Spenser,  Jonson,  Beaumont, 
Massinger,  two  Herberts,  Marlow,  Chapman, 
and  the  rest.  Since  the  constellation  of  great 
men  who  appeared  in  Greece  in  the  time  of 
Pericles,  there  was  never  any  such  society  ; — • 
yet  their  genius  failed  them  to  find  out  the 
best  head  in  the  universe.  Our  poet's  mask 
was  impenetrable.  You  cannot  see  the  mount 
ain  near.  It  took  a  century  to  make  it  sus 
pected  ;  and  not  until  two  centuries  had  passed, 
after  his  death,  did  any  criticism  which  we 
think  adequate  begin  to  appear.  It  was  not 
possible  to  write  the  history  of  Shakspeare 
till  now ;  for  he  is  the  father  of  German 
literature :  it  was  on  the  introduction  of 
Shakspeare  into  German  by  Lessing,  and  the 
translation  of  his  works  by  Wieland  and  Schle- 
gel,  that  the  rapid  burst  of  German  literature 
was  most  intimately  connected.  It  was  not 
until  the  nineteenth  century,  whose  speculative 
genius  is  a  sort  of  living  Hamlet,  that  the 
tragedy  of  Hamlet  could  find  such  wondering 
readers,  Now,  literature,  philosophy,  and 


Sbafcspeare;  or,  Gbe  poet         191 


thought,  are  Shakspearized.  His  mind  is  the 
horizon  beyond  which,  at  present,  we  do  not 
see.  Our  ears  are  educated  to  music  by  his 
rhythm.  Coleridge  and  Goethe  are  the  only 
critics  who  have  expressed  our  convictions 
with  any  adequate  fidelity  :  but  there  is  in  all 
cultivated  minds  a  silent  appreciation  of  his 
superlative  power  and  beauty,  which,  like 
Christianity,  qualifies  the  period. 

The  Shakspeare  Society  have  inquired  in  aM 
directions,  advertised  the  missing  facts,  offered 
money  for  any  information  that  will  lead  to 
proof ;  and  with  what  results  ?  Beside  some 
important  illustration  of  the  history  of  the 
English  stage,  to  which  I  have  adverted,  they 
have  gleaned  a  few  facts  touching  the  property, 
and  dealings  in  regard  to  property,  of  the  poet. 
It  appears  that,  from  year  to  year,  he  owned  a 
larger  share  in  the  Blackfriars'  Theatre  :  its 
wardrobe  and  other  appurtenances  were  his : 
that  he  bought  an  estate  in  his  native  village, 
with  his  earnings,  as  writer  and  shareholder  ; 
that  he  lived  in  the  best  house  in  Stratford ; 
was  intrusted  by  his  neighbors  with  their  com 
missions  in  London,  as  of  borrowing  money, 
and  the  like  ;  that  he  was  a  veritable  farmer. 
About  the  time  when  he  was  writing  Macbeth, 
he  sues  Philip  Rogers,  in  the  borough-court 
of  Stratford,  for  thirty-five  shillings,  ten  pence, 
for  corn  delivered  to  him  at  different  times ; 
and,  in  all  respects,  appears  as  a  good  hus 
band,  with  no  reputation  for  eccentricity  or 


192  "Representative  flfcett 


excess.  He  was  a  good-natured  sort  of  man, 
an  actor  and  shareholder  in  the  theatre,  not  in 
any  striking  manner  distinguished  from  other 
actors  and  managers.  I  admit  the  importance 
of  this  information.  It  was  well  worth  the 
pains  that  have  been  taken  to  procure  it. 

But  whatever  scraps  of  information  concern 
ing  his  condition  these  researches  may  have 
rescued,  they  can  shed  no  light  upon  that  in 
finite  invention  which  is  the  concealed  magnet 
of  his  attraction  for  us.  We  are  very  clumsy 
writers  of  history.  We  tell  the  chronicle  of 
parentage,  birth,  birthplace,  schooling,  school 
mates,  earning  of  money,  marriage,  publication 
of  books,  celebrity,  death  ;  and  when  we  have 
come  to  an  end  of  this  gossip,  no  ray  of  relation 
appears  between  it  and  the  goddess-born  ;  and 
it  seems  as  if,  had  we  dipped  at  random  into 
the  "  Modern  Plutarch,"  and  read  any  other 
life  there,  it  would  have  fitted  the  poems  as 
well.  It  is  the  essence  of  poetry  to  spring, 
like  the  rainbow  daughter  of  Wonder,  from 
the  invisible,  to  abolish  the  past,  and  refuse 
all  history.  Malone,  Warburton,  Dyce,  and 
Collier,  have  wasted  their  oil.  The  famed 
theatres,  Covent  Garden,  Drury  Lane,  the 
Park,  and  Tremont,  have  vainly  assisted. 
Betterton,  Garrick,  Kemble,  Kean,  and  Mac- 
ready,  dedicate  their  lives  to  this  genius  ;  him 
they  crown,  elucidate,  obey,  and  express.  The 
genius  knows  them  not.  The  recitation  be 
gins  i  one  golden  word  leaps  out  immortal  from 


Sbafcspeare ;  or,  tTbc  poet         193 


all  this  painted  pedantry,  and  sweetly  torments 
us  with  invitations  to  its  own  inaccessible 
homes.  I  remember,  I  went  once  to  see  the 
Hamlet  of  a  famed  performer,  the  pride  of  the 
English  stage  ;  and  all  I  then  heard,  and  all  I 
now  remember,  of  the  tragedian,  was  that  in 
which  the  tragedian  had  no  part ;  simply, 
Hamlet's  question  to  the  ghost, — 

"  What  may  this  mean, 

That  thou,  dead  corse,  again  in  complete  steel 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon  ?  " 

That  imagination  which  dilates  the  closet  he 
writes  in  to  the  world's  dimension,  crowds  it 
with  agents  in  rank  and  order,  as  quickly 
reduces  the  big  reality  to  be  the  glimpses  of 
the  moon.  These  tricks  of  his  magic  spoil  for 
us  the  illusions  of  the  green-room.  Can  any 
biography  shed  light  on  the  localities  into 
which  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  admits 
me  ?  Did  Shakspeare  confide  to  any  notary 
or  parish  recorder,  sacristan,  or  surrogate,  in 
Stratford,  the  genesis  of  that  delicate  creation  ? 
The  forest  of  Arden,  the  nimble  air  of  Scone 
Castle,  the  moonlight  of  Portia's  villa,  "  the 
antres  vast  and  desarts  idle,"  of  Othello's 
captivity, — where  is  the  third  cousin,  or  grand- 
nephew,  the  chancellor's  file  of  accounts,  or 
private  letter,  that  has  kept  one  word  of  those 
transcendent  secrets  ?  In  fine,  in  this  drama, 
as  in  all  great  works  of  art, — in  the  Cyclopaean 
architecture  of  Egypt  and  India  ;  in  the  Phidian 
'3 


194  "Representative  /Bben 


sculpture ;  the  Gothic  minsters ;  the  Italian 
painting  ;  the  Ballads  of  Spain  and  Scotland, 
— the  Genius  draws  up  the  ladder  after  him, 
when  the  creative  age  goes  up  to  heaven,  and 
gives  way  to  a  new,  who  see  the  works,  and 
ask  in  vain  for  a  history. 

Shakspeare  is  the  only  biographer  of  Shaks- 
peare  ;  and  even  he  can  tell  nothing,  except 
to  the  Shakspeare  in  us  ;  that  is,  to  our  most 
apprehensive  and  sympathetic  hour.  He  can 
not  step  from  off  his  tripod,  and  give  us 
anecdotes  of  his  inspirations.  Read  the 
antique  documents  extricated,  analyzed,  and 
compared,  by  the  assiduous  Dyce  and  Collier; 
and  now  read  one  of  those  skyey  sentences, — 
aerolites, — which  seem  to  have  fallen  out  of 
heaven,  and  which,  not  your  experience,  but 
the  man  within  the  breast,  has  accepted  as 
words  of  fate ;  and  tell  me  if  they  match  ;  if 
the  former  account  in  any  manner  for  the 
latter;  or,  which  gives  the  most  historical  in 
sight  into  the  man. 

Hence,  though  our  external  history  is  so 
meagre,  yet,  with  Shakspeare  for  biographer, 
instead  of  Aubrey  and  Rowe,  we  have  really 
the  information  which  is  material,  that  which 
describes  character  and  fortune ;  that  which, 
if  we  were  about  to  meet  the  man  and  deal 
with  him,  would  most  import  us  to  know.  We 
have  his  recorded  convictions  on  those  ques 
tions  which  knock  for  answer  at  every  heart,— 
on  life  and  death,  on  love,  on  wealth  and 


Sbafcspeare ;  or,  Hbe  IPoet          195 


poverty,  on  the  prizes  of  life,  and  the  ways 
whereby  we  come  at  them  ;  on  the  characters 
of  men,  and  the  influences,  occult  and  open, 
which  affect  their  fortunes  :  and  on  those  mys 
terious  and  demoniacal  powers  which  defy  our 
science,  and  which  yet  interweave  their  mal 
ice  and  their  gift  in  our  brightest  hours.  Who 
ever  read  the  volume  of  the  Sonnets,  without 
finding  that  the  poet  had  there  revealed,  under 
masks  that  are  no  masks  to  the  intelligent,  the 
lore  of  friendship  and  of  love ;  the  confusion 
of  sentiments  in  the  most  susceptible,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  the  most  intellectual  of  men  ? 
What  trait  of  his  private  mind  has  he  hidden 
in  his  dramas  ?  One  can  discern,  in  his  ample 
pictures  of  the  gentleman  and  the  king,  what 
forms  and  humanities  pleased  him  ;  his  delight 
in  troops  of  friends,  in  large  hospitality,  in 
cheerful  giving.  Let  Timon,  let  Warwick,  let 
Antonio  the  merchant,  answer  for  his  great 
heart.  So  far  from  Shakspeare  being  the  least 
known,  he  is  the  one  person,  in  all  modern  his 
tory,  known  to  us.  What  point  of  morals,  of 
manners,  of  economy,  of  philosophy,  of  religion, 
of  taste,  of  the  conduct  of  life,  has  he  not 
settled  ?  What  mystery  has  he  not  signified 
his  knowledge  of  ?  What  office  or  function, 
or  district  of  man's  work,  has  he  not  remem 
bered  ?  What  king  has  he  not  taught  state,  as 
Talma  taught  Napoleon  ?  What  maiden  has 
not  found  him  finer  than  her  delicacy  ?  What 
lover  has  he  not  outloved  ?  What  sage  has  he 


1?epresentative 


not  outseen  ?     What  gentleman  has  he  not  in 
structed  in  the  rudeness  of  his  behavior  ? 

Some  able  and  appreciating  critics  think  no 
criticism  on  Shakspeare  valuable,  that  does 
not  rest  purely  on  the  dramatic  merit ;  that  he 
is  falsely  judged  as  poet  and  philosopher.  I 
think  as  highly  as  these  critics  of  his  dramatic 
merit,  but  still  think  it  secondary.  He  was  a 
full  man,  who  liked  to  talk  ;  a  brain  exhaling 
thoughts  and  images,  which,  seeking  vent, 
found  the  drama  next  at  hand.  Had  he  been 
less,  we  should  have  had  to  consider  how  well 
he  filled  his  place,  how  good  a  dramatist  he 
was, — and  he  is  the  best  in  the  world.  But  it 
turns  out,  that  what  he  has  to  say  is  of  that 
weight,  as  to  withdraw  some  attention  from 
the  vehicle  ;  and  he  is  like  some  saint  whose 
history  is  to  be  rendered  into  all  languages, 
into  verse  and  prose,  into  songs  and  pictures, 
and  cut  up  into  proverbs ;  so  that  the  occasions 
which  gave  the  saint's  meaning  the  form  of  a 
conversation,  or  of  a  prayer,  or  of  a  code  of 
laws,  is  immaterial  compared  with  the  univer 
sality  of  its  application.  So  it  fares  with  the 
wise  Shakspeare  and  his  book  of  life.  He 
wrote  the  airs  for  all  our  modern  music  :  he 
wrote  the  text  of  modern  life  ;  the  text  of 
manners  :  he  drew  the  man  of  England  and 
Europe  ;  the  father  of  the  man  in  America : 
he  drew  the  man  and  described  the  day, 
and  what  is  done  in  it :  he  read  the  hearts 
of  men  and  women,  their  probity,  and  their 


Sbafcspearc ;  or,  £be  poet          197 


second  thought,  and  wiles ;  the  wiles  of  in 
nocence,  and  the  transitions  by  which  virtues 
and  vices  slide  into  their  contraries  :  he  could 
divide  the  mother's  part  from  the  father's  part 
in  the  face  of  the  child,  or  draw  the  fine  de 
marcations  of  freedom  and  of  fate  :  he  knew 
the  laws  of  repression  which  make  the  police 
of  nature  :  and  all  the  sweets  and  all  the  ter 
rors  of  human  lot  lay  in  his  mind  as  truly  but 
as  softly  as  the  landscape  lies  on  the  eye. 
And  the  importance  of  this  wisdom  of  life 
sinks  the  form,  as  of  Drama  or  Epic,  out  of 
notice.  Tis  like  making  a  question  concern 
ing  the  paper  on  which  a  king's  message  is 
written. 

Shakspeare  is  as  much  out  of  the  category 
of  eminent  authors,  as  he  is  out  of  the  crowd. 
He  is  inconceivably  wise  ;  the  others,  con 
ceivably.  A  good  reader  can,  in  a  sort,  nestle 
into  Plato's  brain,  and  think  from  thence  ;  but 
not  into  Shakspeare's.  We  are  still  out  of 
doors.  For  executive  faculty,  for  creation, 
Shakspeare  is  unique.  No  man  can  imagine 
it  better.  He  was  the  farthest  reach  of  sub 
tlety  compatible  with  an  individual  self, — the 
subtilest  of  authors,  and  only  just  within  the 
possibility  of  authorship.  With  this  wisdom  of 
life,  is  the  equal  endowment  of  imaginative  and 
of  lyric  power.  He  clothed  the  creatures  of  his 
legend  with  form  and  sentiments,  as  if  they 
were  people  who  had  lived  under  his  roof  j 
and  few  real  men  have  left  such  distinct  char- 


198  "Representative 


acters  as  these  fictions.  And  they  spoke  in 
language  as  sweet  as  it  was  fit.  Yet  his  talents 
never  seduced  him  into  an  ostentation,  nor  did 
he  harp  on  one  string.  An  omnipresent 
humanity  co-ordinates  all  his  faculties.  Give 
a  man  of  talents  a  story  to  tell,  and  his  par 
tiality  will  presently  appear.  He  has  certain 
observations,  opinions,  topics,  which  have  some 
accidental  prominence,  and  which  he  disposes 
all  to  exhibit.  He  crams  this  part,  and  starves 
that  other  part,  consulting  not  the  fitness  of  the 
thing,  but  his  fitness  and  strength.  But 
Shakspeare  has  no  peculiarity,  no  importunate 
topic  ;  but  all  is  duly  given ;  no  veins,  no  curi 
osities:  no  cow-painter,  no  bird-fancier,  no  man 
nerist  is  he  :  he  has  no  discoverable  egotism  :  the 
great  he  tells  greatly ;  the  small  subordinate- 
ly.  He  is  wise  without  emphasis  or  assertion ; 
he  is  strong,  as  nature  is  strong,  who  lifts  the 
land  into  mountain  slopes  without  effort,  and  by 
the  same  rule  as  she  floats  a  bubble  in  the  air, 
and  likes  as  well  to  do  the  one  as  the  other. 
This  makes  that  equality  of  power  in  farce, 
tragedy,  narrative,  and  love-songs ;  a  merit  so 
incessant,  that  each  reader  is  incredulous  of 
the  perception  of  other  readers. 

This  power  of  expression,  or  of  transferring 
the  inmost  truth  of  things  into  music  and  verse, 
makes  him  the  type  of  the  poet,  and  has  added 
a  new  problem  to  metaphysics.  This  is  that 
which  throws  him  into  natural  history,  as  a 
main  production  of  the  globe,  and  as  announo 


Sbafcspeare  ;  or,  £be  poet          199 


ing  new  eras  and  ameliorations.  Things  were 
mirrored  in  his  poetry  without  loss  or  blur: 
he  could  paint  the  fine  with  precision,  the  great 
with  compass  ;  the  tragic  and  the  comic  indif 
ferently,  and  without  any  distortion  or  favor. 
He  carried  his  powerful  execution  into  minute 
details,  to  a  hair  point ;  finishes  an  eyelash 
or  a  dimple  as  firmly  as  he  draws  a  mountain ; 
and  yet  these  like  nature's,  will  bear  the  scru 
tiny  of  the  solar  microscope. 

In  short,  he  is  the  chief  example  to  prove 
that  more  or  less  of  production,  more  or  fewer 
pictures,  is  a  thing  indifferent.  He  had  the 
power  to  make  one  picture.  Daguerre  learned 
how  to  let  one  flower  etch  its  image  on  his 
plate  of  iodine  ;  and  then  proceeds  at  leisure 
to  etch  a  million.  There  are  always  objects  ; 
but  there  was  never  representation.  Here  is 
perfect  representation,  at  last ;  and  now  let 
the  world  of  figures  sit  for  their  portraits.  No 
recipe  can  be  given  for  the  making  of  a 
Shakspeare  ;  but  the  possibility  of  the  trans 
lation  of  things  into  song  is  demonstrated. 

His  lyric  power  lies  in  the  genius  of  the 
piece.  The  sonnets,  though  their  excellence 
is  lost  in  the  splendor  of  the  dramas,  are  as 
inimitable  as  they :  and  it  is  not  a  merit  of 
lines,  but  a  total  merit  of  the  piece ;  like  the 
tone  of  voice  of  some  incomparable  person, 
so  is  this  a  speech  of  poetic  beings,  and 
any  clause  as  unproducible  now  as  a  whole 
poem. 


too  "Representative  flfcen 


Though  the  speeches  in  the  plays,  and 
single  lines,  have  a  beauty  which  tempts  the 
ear  to  pause  on  them  for  their  euphuism,  yet 
the  sentence  is  so  loaded  with  meaning,  and 
so  linked  with  its  foregoers  and  followers, 
that  the  logician  is  satisfied.  His  means  are 
as  admirable  as  his  ends ;  every  subordinate 
invention,  by  which  he  helps  himself  to  con 
nect  some  irreconcilable  opposites,  is  a  poem 
too.  He  is  not  reduced  to  dismount  and 
walk,  because  his  horses  are  running  off 
with  him  in  some  distant  direction  :  he  always 
rides. 

The  finest  poetry  was  first  experience :  but 
the  thought  has  suffered  a  transformation 
since  it  was  an  experience.  Cultivated  men 
often  attain  a  good  degree  of  skill  in  writing 
verses ;  but  it  is  easy  to  read,  through  their 
poems,  their  personal  history :  any  one  ac 
quainted  with  parties  can  name  every  figure  : 
this  is  Andrew,  and  that  is  Rachel.  The 
sense  thus  remains  prosaic.  It  is  a  caterpillar 
with  wings,  and  not  yet  a  butterfly.  In  the 
poet's  mind,  the  fact  has  gone  quite  over  into 
the  new  element  of  thought,  and  has  lost  all 
that  is  exuvial.  This  generosity  abides  with 
Shakspeare.  We  say,  from  the  truth  and 
closeness  of  his  pictures,  that  he  knows  the 
lesson  by  heart.  Yet  there  is  not  a  trace  of 
egotism. 

One  more  royal  trait  properly  belongs  to  the 
poet.  I  mean  his  cheerfulness,  without  which 


Sbahspeare ;  or,  Ebe  Poet          201 


no  man  can  be  a  poet, — for  beauty  is  his  aim. 
He  loves  virtue,  not  for  its  obligation,  but  for 
its  grace :  he  delights  in  the  world,  in  man,  in 
woman,  for  the  lovely  light  that  sparkles  from 
them.  Beauty,  the  spirit  of  joy  and  hilarity, 
*ie  sheds  over  the  universe.  Epicurus  relates, 
that  poetry  hath  such  charms  that  a  lover  might 
forsake  his  mistress  to  partake  of  them.  And 
the  true  bards  have  been  noted  for  their  firm 
and  cheerful  temper.  Homer  lies  in  sunshine  ; 
Chaucer  is  glad  and  erect ;  and  Saadi  says, 
"  It  was  rumored  abroad  that  I  was  penitent ; 
but  what  had  I  to  do  with  repentance  ?  "  Not 
less  sovereign  and  cheerful, — much  more  sov 
ereign  and  cheerful  is  the  tone  of  Shakspeare. 
His  name  suggests  joy  and  emancipation  to 
the  heart  of  men.  If  he  should  appear  in  any 
company  of  human  souls,  who  would  not 
march  in  his  troop  ?  He  touches  nothing  that 
does  not  borrow  health  and  longevity  from  his 
festive  style. 

And  now,  how  stands  the  account  of  man 
with  this  bard  and  benefactor,  when  in  soli 
tude,  shutting  our  ears  to  the  reverberations  of 
his  fame,  we  seek  to  strike  the  balance  ?  Soli 
tude  has  austere  lessons  ;  it  can  teach  us  to 
spare  both  heroes  and  poets  ;  and  it  weighs 
Shakspeare  also,  and  finds  him  to  share  the 
halfness  and  imperfection  of  humanity. 

Shakspeare,  Homer,  Dante,  Chaucer,  saw 
the  splendor  of  meaning  that  plays  over  the 


aoa  "Representative  flben 


visible  world ;  knew  that  a  tree  had  another 
use  than  for  apples,  and  corn  another  than  for 
meal,  and  the  ball  of  the  earth,  than  for  tillage 
and  roads  :  that  these  things  bore  a  second 
and  finer  harvest  to  the  mind,  being  emblems 
of  its  thoughts,  and  conveying  in  all  their 
natural  history  a  certain  mute  commentary  on 
human  life.  Shakspeare  employed  them  as 
colors  to  compose  his  picture.  He  rested 
in  their  beauty ;  and  never  took  the  step  which 
seemed  inevitable  to  such  genius,  namely,  to 
explore  the  virtue  which  resides  in  these 
symbols,  and  imparts  this  power, — what  is 
that  which  they  themselves  say  ?  He  con 
verted  the  elements,  which  waited  on  his 
command,  into  entertainments.  He  was 
master  of  the  revels  to  mankind.  Is  it  not  as 
if  one  should  have,  through  majestic  powers 
of  science,  the  comets  given  into  his  hand,  or 
the  planets  and  their  moons,  and  should  draw 
them  from  their  orbits  to  glare  with  the  munic 
ipal  fireworks  on  a  holiday  night,  and  adver 
tise  in  all  towns,  "  very  superior  pyrotechny 
this  evening  !  "  Are  the  agents  of  nature,  and 
the  power  to  understand  them,  worth  no  more 
than  a  street  serenade,  or  the  breath  of  a 
cigar  ?  One  remembers  again  the  trumpet- 
text  in  the  Koran — "  The  heavens  and  the 
earth,  and  all  that  is  between  them,  think  ye 
we  have  created  them  in  jest  ?  "  As  long  as 
the  question  is  of  talent  and  mental  power, 
the  world  of  men  has  not  his  equal  to  show. 


Sbafcspeare ;  ort  tTbc  poet          203 


But  when  the  question  is  to  life,  and  its 
materials,  and  its  auxiliaries,  how  does  he 
profit  me  ?  What  does  it  signify  ?  It  is  but 
a  Twelfth  Night,  or  Midsummer-Night's  Dream, 
or  a  Winter  Evening's  Tale  :  what  signifies 
another  picture  more  or  less  ?  The  Egyptian 
verdict  of  the  Shakspeare  Societies  comes  to 
mind,  that  he  was  a  jovial  actor  and  manager. 
I  cannot  marry  this  fact  to  his  verse.  Other 
admirable  men  have  led  lives  in  some  sort  of 
keeping  with  their  thought ;  but  this  man,  in 
wide  contrast.  Had  he  been  less,  had  he 
reached  only  the  common  measure  of  great 
authors,  of  Bacon,  Milton,  Tasso,  Cervantes, 
we  might  leave  the  fact  in  the  twilight  of  human 
fate  :  but,  that  this  man  of  men,  he  who  gave 
to  the  science  of  mind  a  new  and  larger  sub 
ject  than  had  ever  existed,  and  planted  the 
standard  of  humanity  some  furlongs  forward 
into  Chaos, — that  he  should  not  be  wise  for 
himself, — it  must  even  go  into  the  world's 
history,  that  the  best  poet  led  an  obscure  and 
profane  life,  using  his  genius  for  the  public 
amusement. 

Well,  other  men,  priest  and  prophet,  Israelite, 
German,  and  Swede,  beheld  the  same  objects: 
they  also  saw  through  them  that  which  was 
contained.  And  to  what  purpose  ?  The  beauty 
straightway  vanishes ;  they  read  command 
ments,  all-excluding  mountainous  duty;  an 
obligation,  a  sadness,  as  of  piled  mountains, 
fell  on  them,  and  life  became  ghastly,  joyless, 


204  'Representative 


a  pilgrim's  progress,  a  probation,  beleaguered 
round  with  doleful  histories  of  Adam's  fall  and 
curse,  behind  us  ;  with  doomsdays  and  pur 
gatorial  and  penal  fires  before  us  ;  and  the 
heart  of  the  seer  and  the  heart  of  the  listener 
sank  in  them. 

It  must  be  conceded  that  these  are  half- 
views  of  half-men.  The  world  still  wants  its 
poet-priest,  a  reconciler,  who  shall  not  trifle 
with  Shakspeare  the  player,  nor  shall  grope  in 
graves  with  Swedenborg  the  mourner ;  but  who 
shall  see,  speak,  and  act,  with  equal  inspira 
tion.  For  knowledge  will  brighten  the  sun 
shine  ;  right  is  more  beautiful  than  private 
affection  ;  and  love  is  compatible  with  univer 
sal  wisdom. 


NAPOLEON ;  OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE 
WORLD. 


NAPOLEON  AT  JENA. 


VI. 


Napoleon ;  or.  The  Man  of  The 
World. 


AMONG  the  eminent  persons  of  the  nine 
teenth  century,  Bonaparte  is  far  the  best 
known,  and  the  most  powerful ;  and  owes  his 
predominance  to  the  fidelity  with  which  he 
expresses  the  tone  of  thought  and  belief,  the 
aims  of  the  masses  of  active  and  cultivated 
men.  It  is  Swedenborg's  theory,  that  every 
organ  is  made  up  of  homogeneous  particles : 
or,  as  it  is  sometimes  expressed,  every  whole 
is  made  of  similars ;  that  is,  the  lungs  are  com 
posed  of  infinitely  small  lungs ;  the  liver,  of 
infinitely  small  livers ;  the  kidney,  of  little 
kidneys,  etc.  Following  this  analogy,  if  any 
man  is  found  to  carry  with  him  the  power  and 
affections  of  vast  numbers,  if  Napoleon  is 
France,  if  Napoleon  is  Europe,  it  is  because  the 
people  whom  he  sways  are  little  Napoleons. 

In  our  society,  there  is  a  standing  antago 
nism  between  the  conservative  and  the  demo- 


"Kcpresentativc  flben 


cratic  classes  ;  between  those  who  have  made 
their  fortunes,  and  the  young  and  the  poor 
who  have  fortunes  to  make :  between  the 
interests  of  dead  labor, — that  is,  the  labor  of 
hands  long  ago  still  in  the  grave,  which  labor 
is  now  entombed  in  money  stocks,  or  in  land 
and  buildings  owned  by  idle  capitalists, — and 
the  interests  of  living  labor,  which  seeks  to 
possess  itself  of  land,  and  buildings,  and 
money  stocks.  The  first  class  is  timid,  selfish, 
illiberal,  hating  innovation,  and  continually 
losing  numbers  by  death.  The  second  class  is 
selfish  also,  encroaching,  bold,  self-relying, 
always  outnumbering  the  other,  and  recruiting 
its  numbers  every  hour  by  births.  It  desires 
to  keep  open  every  avenue  to  the  competition 
of  all,  and  to  multiply  avenues ; — the  class  of 
business  men  in  America,  in  England,  in 
France,  and  throughout  Europe ;  the  class  of 
industry  and  skill.  Napoleon  is  its  represent 
ative.  The  instinct  of  active,  brave,  able 
men,  throughout  the  middle  class  everywhere, 
has  pointed  out  Napoleon  as  the  incarnate 
Democrat.  He  had  their  virtues,  and  their 
vices ;  above  all,  he  had  their  spirit  or  aim. 
That  tendency  is  material,  pointing  at  a  sen 
sual  success,  and  employing  the  richest  and 
most  various  means  to  that  end ;  conversant 
with  mechanical  powers,  highly  intellectual, 
widely  and  accurately  learned  and  skilful,  bu; 
subordinating  all  intellectual  and  spiritual 
forces  into  means  to  a  material  success.  To 


Vlapoleon ;  or,  £be  flfcan  of  tbc  TJdorlO  209 


be  the  rich  man,  is  the  end.  "  God  has 
granted,"  says  the  Koran,  "  to  every  people 
a  prophet  in  its  own  tongue."  Paris,  and 
London,  and  New  York,  the  spirit  of  com 
merce,  of  money,  and  material  power,  were 
also  to  have  their  prophet ;  and  Bonaparte 
was  qualified  and  sent. 

Every  one  of  the  million  readers  of  anec 
dotes,  or  memoirs,  or  lives  of  Napoleon,  de 
lights  in  the  page,  because  he  studies  in  it 
his  own  history.  Napoleon  is  thoroughly 
modern,  and,  at  the  highest  point  of  his  fort 
unes,  has  the  very  spirit  of  the  newspapers. 
He  is  no  saint, — to  use  his  own  word,  "no 
capuchin,"  and  he  is  no  hero,  in  the  high  sense. 
The  man  in  the  street  finds  in  him  the  qualities 
and  powers  of  other  men  in  the  street.  He 
finds  him,  like  himself,  by  birth  a  citizen,  who, 
by  very  intelligible  merits,  arrived  at  such  a 
commanding  position,  that  he  could  indulge 
all  those  tastes  which  the  common  man  pos 
sesses,  but  is  obliged  to  conceal  and  deny: 
good  society,  good  books,  fast  travelling,  dress, 
dinners,  servants  without  number,  personal 
weight,  the  execution  of  his  ideas,  the  stand 
ing  in  the  attitude  of  a  benefactor  to  all  per 
sons  about  him,  the  refined  enjoyments  of 
pictures,  statues,  music,  palaces,  and  conven 
tional  honors, — precisely  what  is  agreeable  to 
the  heart  of  every  man  in  the  nineteenth  cent 
ury, — this  powerful  man  possessed. 

It  is  true  that  a  man  of  Napoleon's  truth  of 
14 


no  tRepresentatfve  .flfcen 


adaptation  to  the  mind  of  the  masses  around 
him  becomes  not  merely  representative,  but 
actually  a  monopolizer  and  usurper  of  other 
minds.  Thus  Mirabeau  plagiarized  every 
good  thought,  every  good  word,  that  was 
spoken  in  France.  Dumont  relates,  that  he 
sat  in  the  gallery  of  the  Convention,  and 
heard  Mirabeau  make  a  speech.  It  struck 
Dumont  that  he  could  fit  it  with  a  peroration, 
which  he  wrote  in  pencil  immediately,  and 
showed  to  Lord  Elgin,  who  sat  by  him.  Lord 
Elgin  approved  it,  and  Dumont,  in  the  even 
ing,  showed  it  to  Mirabeau.  Mirabeau  read 
it,  pronounced  it  admirable,  and  declared  he 
would  incorporate  it  into  his  harangue,  to 
morrow,  to  the  Assembly.  "  It  is  impossible," 
said  Dumont,  "as,  unfortunately,  I  have  shown 
it  to  Lord  Elgin."  "  If  you  have  shown  it  to 
Lord  Elgin,  and  to  fifty  persons  beside,  I  shall 
still  speak  it  to-morrow  : "  and  he  did  speak 
it,  with  much  effect,  at  the  next  day's  session. 
For  Mirabeau,  with  his  overpowering  person 
ality,  felt  that  these  things,  which  his  presence 
inspired,  were  as  much  his  own,  as  if  he  had 
said  them,  and  that  his  adoption  of  them  gave 
them  their  weight.  Much  more  absolute  and 
centralizing  was  the  successor  to  Mirabeau's 
popularity,  and  to  much  more  than  his  predomi 
nance  in  France.  Indeed,  a  man  of  Napoleon's 
stamp  almost  ceases  to  have  a  private  speech 
and  opinion.  He  is  so  largely  receptive,  and 
is  so  placed,  that  he  comes  to  be  a  bureau  for 


IRapoleon;  or,  Gbe  flfean  of  tbe  TKHotio  211 


all  the  intelligence,  wit,  and  power,  of  the  age 
and  country.  He  gains  the  battle  ;  he  makes 
the  code ;  he  makes  the  system  of  weights  and 
measures ;  he  levels  the  Alps ;  he  builds  the 
road.  All  distinguished  engineers,  savants, 
statists,  report  to  him  :  so  likewise  do  all  good 
heads  in  every  kind  :  he  adopts  the  best  meas 
ures,  sets  his  stamp  on  them,  and  not  these 
alone,  but  on  every  happy  and  memorable  ex 
pression.  Every  sentence  spoken  by  Napo 
leon,  and  every  line  of  his  writing,  deserves 
reading,  as  it  is  the  sense  of  France. 

Bonaparte  was  the  idol  of  common  men, 
because  he  had  in  transcendent  degree  the 
qualities  and  powers  of  common  men.  There 
is  a  certain  satisfaction  in  coming  down  to  the 
lowest  ground  of  politics,  for  we  get  rid  of 
cant  and  hypocrisy.  Bonaparte  wrought,  in 
common  with  that  great  class  he  represented, 
for  power  and  wealth, — but  Bonaparte, 
specially,  without  any  scruple  as  to  the  means. 
All  the  sentiments  which  embarrass  men's 
pursuit  of  these  objects,  he  set  aside.  The 
sentiments  were  for  women  and  children. 
Fontanes,  in  1804,  expressed  Napoleon's  own 
sense,  when,  in  behalf  of  the  Senate,  he  ad 
dressed  him, — "  Sire,  the  desire  of  perfection 
is  the  worst  disease  that  ever  afflicted  the 
human  mind."  The  advocates  of  liberty,  and 
of  progress,  are  "  ideologists  ;  " — a  word  of 
contempt  often  in  his  mouth  ; — "  Necker  is  an 
ideologist :  "  "  Lafayette  is  an  ideologist." 


212  "Representative 


An  Italian  proverb,  too  well  known,  declares 
that,  "  if  you  would  succeed,  you  must  not  be 
too  good."  It  is  an  advantage,  within  certain 
limits,  to  have  renounced  the  dominion  of  the 
sentiments  of  piety,  gratitude,  and  generosity  ; 
since,  what  was  an  impassable  bar  to  us,  and 
still  is  to  others,  becomes  a  convenient  weapon 
for  our  purposes  ;  just  as  the  river  which  was 
a  formidable  barrier,  winter  transforms  into 
the  smoothest  of  roads. 

Napoleon  renounced,  once  for  all,  sentiments 
and  affections,  and  would  help  himself  with 
his  hands  and  his  head.  With  him  is  no 
miracle,  and  no  magic.  He  is  a  worker  in 
brass,  in  iron,  in  wood,  in  earth,  in  roads,  in 
buildings,  in  money,  and  in  troops,  and  a  very 
consistent  and  wise  master-workman.  He  is 
never  weak  and  literary,  but  acts  with  the 
solidity  and  the  precision  of  natural  agents. 
He  has  not  lost  his  native  sense  and  sympathy 
with  things.  Men  give  way  before  such  a  man 
as  before  natural  events.  To  be  sure,  there  are 
men  enough  who  are  immersed  in  things,  as 
farmers,  smiths,  sailors,  and  mechanics  gener 
ally  ;  and  we  know  how  real  and  solid  such  men 
appear  in  the  presence  of  scholars  and  gram 
marians  :  but  these  men  ordinarily  lack  the 
power  of  arrangement,  and  are  like  hands  with 
out  a  head.  But  Bonaparte  superadded  to  this 
mineral  and  animal  force,  insight  and  general 
ization,  so  that  men  saw  in  him  combined  the 
natural  and  the  intellectual  power,  as  if  the  sea 


Hapoleon;  or,  tlbc  dfcan  of  tbe  TKHotlfc  213 


and  land  had  taken  flesh  and  begun  to  cipher. 
Therefore  the  land  and  sea  seem  to  presuppose 
him.  He  came  unto  his  own,  and  they  received 
him.  This  ciphering  operative  knows  what  he 
is  working  with,  and  what  is  the  product.  He 
knew  the  properties  of  gold  and  iron,  of  wheels 
and  ships,  of  troops  and  diplomatists,  and  re 
quired  that  each  should  do  after  its  kind. 

The  art  of  war  was  the  game  in  which  he 
exerted  his  arithmetic.  It  consisted,  accord 
ing  to  him,  in  having  always  more  forces  than 
the  enemy,  on  the  point  where  the  enemy  is 
attacked,  or  where  he  attacks  :  and  his  whole 
talent  is  strained  by  endless  manoeuvre  and 
evolution,  to  march  always  on  the  enemy  at 
an  angle,  and  destroy  his  forces  in  detail.  It 
is  obvious  that  a  very  small  force,  skilfully 
and  rapidly  manoeuvring,  so  as  always  to  bring 
two  men  against  one  at  the  point  of  engage 
ment,  will  be  an  overmatch  for  a  much  larger 
body  of  men. 

The  times,  his  constitution,  and  his  early 
circumstances,  combined  to  develop  this  pat 
tern  democrat.  He  had  the  virtues  of  his 
class,  and  the  conditions  for  their  activity. 
That  common  sense,  which  no  sooner  respects 
any  end,  than  it  finds  the  means  to  effect  it ; 
the  delight  in  the  use  of  means  ;  in  the  choice, 
simplification,  and  combining  of  means  ;  the 
directness  and  thoroughness  of  his  work  ;  the 
prudence  with  which  all  was  seen,  and  the 
energy  with  which  all  was  done,  make  him  the 


IRepresentative  dfcen 


natural  organ  and  head  of  what  I  may  almost 
call,  from  its  extent,  the  modern  party. 

Nature  must  have  far  the  greatest  share  in 
every  success,  and  so  in  his.  Such  a  man  was 
wanted,  and  such  a  man  was  born  ;  a  man  of 
stone  and  iron,  capable  of  sitting  on  horseback 
sixteen  or  seventeen  hours,  of  going  many  days 
together  without  rest  or  food,  except  by 
snatches,  and  with  the  speed  and  spring  of  a 
tiger  in  action ;  a  man  not  embarrassed  by  any 
scruples ;  compact,  instant,  selfish,  prudent, 
and  of  a  perception  which  did  not  suffer  itself 
to  be  balked  or  misled  by  any  pretences  of 
others,  or  any  superstition,  or  any  heat  or 
haste  of  his  own.  "  My  hand  of  iron,"  he 
said,  "  was  not  at  the  extremity  of  my  arm  i  it 
was  immediately  connected  with  my  head." 
He  respected  the  power  of  nature  and  fortune, 
and  ascribed  to  it  his  superiority,  instead  of 
valuing  himself,  like  inferior  men,  on  his  opin- 
ionativeness  and  waging  war  with  nature. 
His  favorite  rhetoric  lay  in  allusion  to  his  star  : 
and  he  pleased  himself,  as  well  as  the  people, 
when  he  styled  himself  the  "Child  of  Des 
tiny."  "  They  charge  me,"  he  said,  "  with 
the  commission  of  great  crimes:  men  of  my 
stamp  do  not  commit  crimes.  Nothing  has 
been  more  simple  than  my  elevation :  'tis  in 
vain  to  ascribe  it  to  intrigue  or  crime  :  it  was 
owing  to  the  peculiarity  of  the  times,  and  to 
my  reputation  of  having  fought  well  against 
the  enemies  of  my  country.  I  have  always 


•Rapoteon;  or,tTbc  /Ran  of  tbe  TtfUotlo  215 


marched  with  the  opinion  of  great  masses, 
and  with  events.  Of  what  use,  then,  would 
crimes  be  to  me  ?  "  Again  he  said,  speaking 
of  his  son,  "  My  son  cannot  replace  me  ;  I 
could  not  replace  myself.  I  am  the  creature 
of  circumstances." 

He  had  a  directness  of  action  never  before 
combined  with  so  much  comprehension.  He 
is  a  realist,  terrific  to  all  talkers,  and  confused 
truth-obscuring  persons.  He  sees  where  the 
matter  hinges,  throws  himself  on  the  precise 
point  of  resistance,  and  slights  all  other  con 
siderations.  He  is  strong  in  the  right  manner, 
namely,  by  insight.  He  never  blundered  into 
victory,  but  won  his  battles  in  his  head,  before 
he  won  them  on  the  field.  His  principal 
means  are  in  himself.  He  asks  counsel  of 
no  other.  In  1796,  he  writes  to  the  Direc 
tory  :  "  I  have  conducted  the  campaign  with 
out  consulting  any  one.  I  should  have  done 
no  good,  if  I  had  been  under  the  necessity  of 
conforming  to  the  notions  of  another  person. 
I  have  gained  some  advantages  over  superior 
forces,  and  when  totally  destitute  of  every 
thing,  because,  in  the  persuasion  that  your 
confidence  was  reposed  in  me,  my  actions 
were  as  prompt  as  my  thoughts." 

History  is  full,  down  to  this  day,  of  the 
imbecility  of  kings  and  governors.  They  are 
a  class  of  persons  much  to  be  pitied,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  should  do.  The  weavers 
strike  for  bread  ;  and  the  king  and  his  minis- 


«i6  "Representative  Aen 


ters,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  meet  them  with 
bayonets.  But  Napoleon  understood  his 
business.  Here  was  a  man  who,  in  each 
moment  and  emergency,  knew  what  to  do 
next.  It  is  an  immense  comfort  and  refresh 
ment  to  the  spirits,  not  only  of  kings,  but  of 
citizens.  Few  men  have  any  next ;  they  live 
from  hand  to  mouth,  without  plan,  and  are 
ever  at  the  end  of  their  line,  and,  after  each 
action,  wait  for  an  impulse  from  abroad. 
Napoleon  had  been  the  first  man  of  the  world 
if  his  ends  had  been  purely  public.  As  he  is, 
he  inspires  confidence  and  vigor  by  the  ex 
traordinary  unity  of  his  action.  He  is  firm, 
sure,  self-denying,  self-postponing,  sacrificing 
everything  to  his  aim, — money,  troops,  gen 
erals,  and  his  own  safety  also,  to  his  aim ; 
not  misled,  like  common  adventurers,  by  the 
splendor  of  his  own  means.  "  Incidents 
ought  not  to  govern  policy,"  he  said,  "  but 
policy,  incidents."  "  To  be  hurried  away  by 
every  every  event,  is  to  have  no  political 
system  at  all."  His  victories  were  only  so 
many  doors,  and  he  never  for  a  moment  lost 
sight  of  his  way  onward,  in  the  dazzle  and  up 
roar  of  the  present  circumstance.  He  knew 
what  to  do,  and .  he  flew  to  his  mark.  He 
would  shorten  a  straight  line  to  come  at  his 
object.  Horrible  anecdotes  may,  no  doubt, 
be  collected  from  his  history,  of  the  price  at 
which  he  bought  his  successes ;  but  he  must 
not  therefore  be  set  down  as  cruel ;  but  only 
as  one  who  knew  no  impediment  to  his  will ; 


*lapoieon;  or,  Gbe  flban  of  tbe  TEdorlO  217 


not  bloodthirsty,  not  cruel, — but  wo  to  what 
thing  or  person  stood  in  his  way  !  Not  blood 
thirsty,  but  not  sparing  of  blood, — and  pitiless. 
He  saw  only  the  object :  the  obstacle  must 
give  way.  "  Sire,  General  Clarke  cannot 
combine  with  General  Junot,  for  the  dreadful 
fire  of  the  Austrian  battery." — "  Let  him 
carry  the  battery." — "  Sire,  every  regiment  that 
approaches  the  heavy  artillery  is  sacrificed : 
Sire,  what  orders  ?  " — "  Forward,  forward  !  " 
Seruzier,  a  colonel  of  artillery,  gives,  in  his 
Military  Memoirs,  the  following  sketch  of  a 
scene  after  the  battle  of  Austerlitz. — "  At  the 
moment  in  which  the  Russian  army  was  mak 
ing  its  retreat,  painfully,  but  in  good  order,  on 
the  ice  of  the  lake,  the  Emperor  Napoleon 
came  riding  at  full  speed  toward  the  artillery. 
'You  are  losing  time,' he  cried;  'fire  upon 
those  masses ;  they  must  be  engulfed ;  fire 
upon  the  ice  ! '  The  order  remained  unexe 
cuted  for  ten  minutes.  In  vain  several  officers 
and  myself  were  placed  on  the  slope  of  a  hill 
to  produce  the  effect :  their  balls  and  mine 
rolled  upon  the  ice,  without  breaking  it  up. 
Seeing  that,  I  tried  a  simple  method  of  elevat 
ing  light  howitzers.  The  almost  perpendicular 
fall  of  the  heavy  projectiles  produced  the 
desired  effect.  My  method  was  immediately 
followed  by  the  adjoining  batteries,  and  in  less 
than  no  time  we  buried  "  some  *  "  thousands  oi 

*  As  I  quote  at  second-hand,  and  cannot  procure 
Seruzier,  I  dare  not  adopt  the  h'.gh  figure  I  find. 


2i8  •Representative  flben 

Russians  and  Austrians  under  the  waters  of 
the  lake." 

In  the  plenitude  of  his  resources,  every  ob 
stacle  seemed  to  vanish.  "There  shall  be  no 
Alps,"  he  said ;  and  he  built  his  perfect  roads, 
climbing  by  graded  galleries  their  steepest 
precipices,  until  Italy  was  as  open  to  Paris  as 
any  town  in  France.  He  laid  his  bones  to, 
and  wrought  for  his  crown.  Having  decided 
what  was  to  be  done,  he  did  that  with  might 
and  main.  He  put  out  all  his  strength.  He 
risked  everything,  and  spared  nothing,  neither 
ammunition,  nor  money,  nor  troops,  nor 
generals,  nor  himself. 

We  like  to  see  every  thing  do  its  office  after 
its  kind,  whether  it  be  a  milch-cow  or  a  rattle 
snake  ;  and,  if  fighting  be  the  best  mode  of 
adjusting  national  differences  (as  large  major 
ities  of  men  seem  to  agree),  certainly  Bona 
parte  was  right  in  making  it  thorough.  "  The 
grand  principle  of  war, "  he  said,  "  was,  that 
an  army  ought  always  to  be  ready,  by  day  and 
by  night,  and  at  all  hours,  to  make  all  the  re 
sistance  it  is  capable  of  making."  He  never 
economized  his  ammunition,  but,  on  a  hostile 
position,  rained  a  torrent  of  iron, — shells,  balls, 
grape-shot, — to  annihilate  all  defence.  On 
any  point  of  resistance,  he  concentrated  squad 
ron  on  squadron  in  overwhelming  numbers, 
until  it  was  swept  out  of  existence.  To  a  reg 
iment  of  horse-chasseurs  at  Lobenstein,  two 
days  before  the  battle  of  Jena,  Napoleon  said, 


•ftapoleon ;  or,  £be  /foan  of  tbe  Tidorlo  2 19 


"  My  lads,  you  must  not  fear  death  ;  when 
soldiers  brave  death,  they  drive  him  into  the 
enemy's  ranks."  In  the  fury  of  assault,  he  no 
more  spared  himself.  He  went  to  the  edge 
of  his  possibility.  It  is  plain  that  in  Italy  he 
did  what  he  could,  and  all  that  he  could.  He 
came,  several  times,  within  an  inch  of  ruin ; 
and  his  own  person  was  all  but  lost.  He  was 
flung  into  the  marsh  at  Arcola.  The  Austrians 
were  between  him  and  his  troops,  in  the  melee, 
and  he  was  brought  off  with  desperate  efforts. 
At  Lonato,  and  at  other  places,  he  was  on  the 
point  of  being  taken  prisoner.  He  fought 
sixty  battles.  He  had  never  enough.  Each 
victory  was  a  new  weapon.  "  My  power 
would  fall,  were  I  not  to  support  it  by  new 
achievements.  Conquest  has  made  me  what 
I  am,  and  conquest  must  maintain  me."  He 
felt,  with  every  wise  man,  that  as  much  life  is 
needed  for  conservation  as  for  creation.  We 
are  always  in  peril,  always  in  a  bad  plight, 
just  on  the  edge  of  destruction,  and  only  to 
be  saved  by  invention  and  courage. 

This  vigor  was  guarded  and  tempered  by 
the  coldest  prudence  and  punctuality.  A 
thunderbolt  in  the  attack,  he  was  found  in 
vulnerable  in  his  intrenchments.  His  very 
attack  was  never  the  inspiration  of  courage, 
but  the  result  of  calculation.  His  idea  of  the 
best  defence  consists  in  being  still  the  attack 
ing  party.  "  My  ambition,"  he  says,  "  was 
great,  but  was  of  a  cold  nature."  In  one  of 


220  "Representative  flden 


his  conversations  with  Las  Casas,  he  re 
marked,  "  As  to  moral  courage,  I  have  rarely 
met  with  the  two-o'clock-in-the-morning  kind ; 
I  mean  unprepared  courage,  that  which,  is 
necessary  on  an  unexpected  occasion;  and 
which,  in  spite  of  the  most  unforeseen  events, 
leaves  full  freedom  of  judgment  and  decis 
ion  : "  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  declare 
that  he  was  himself  eminently  endowed  with 
this  "  two-o'clock-in-the-morning  courage,  and 
that  he  had  met  with  few  persons  equal  to 
himself  in  this  respect." 

Everything  depended  on  the  nicety  of  his 
combinations,  and  the  stars  were  not  more 
punctual  than  his  arithmetic.  His  personal 
attention  descended  to  the  smallest  par 
ticulars.  "  At  Montebello,  I  ordered  Keller- 
mann  to  attack  with  eight  hundred  horse,  and 
with  these  he  separated  the  six  thousand 
Hungarian  grenadiers,  before  the  very  eyes  of 
the  Austrian  cavalry.  This  cavalry  was  half 
a  league  off,  and  required  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  to  arrive  on  the  field  of  action ;  and  I 
have  observed,  that  it  is  always  these  quarters 
of  an  hour  that  decide  the  fate  of  a  battle." 
"  Before  he  fought  a  battle,  Bonaparte  thought 
little  about  what  he  should  do  in  case  of  suc 
cess,  but  a  great  deal  about  what  he  should 
do  in  case  of  a  reverse  of  fortune."  The 
same  prudence  and  good  sense  mark  all  his 
behavior.  His  instructions  to  his  secretary  at 
the  Tuilleries  are  worth  remembering.  "  Dur- 


Hapoleon ;  or,  Ubc  /Ban  of  tbe  TPUorlO  221 


ing  the  night,  enter  my  chamber  as  seldom  as 
possible.  Do  not  awake  me  when  you  have 
any  good  news  to  communicate ;  with  that 
there  is  no  hurry.  But  when  you  bring  bad 
news,  rouse  me  instantly,  for  then  there  is  not 
a  moment  to  be  lost."  It  was  a  whimsical 
economy  of  the  same  kind  which  dictated  his 
practice,  when  general  in  Italy,  in  regard  to 
his  burdensome  correspondence.  He  directed 
Bourienne  to  leave  all  letters  unopened  for 
three  weeks,  and  then  observed  with  satis 
faction  how  large  a  part  of  the  correspondence 
had  thus  disposed  of  itself,  and  no  longer  re 
quired  an  answer.  His  achievement  of  busi 
ness  was  immense,  and  enlarges  the  known 
powers  of  man.  There  have  been  many 
working  kings,  from  Ulysses  to  William  of 
Orange,  but  none  who  accomplished  a  tithe  of 
this  man's  performance. 

To  these  gifts  of  nature,  Napoleon  added 
the  advantage  of  having  been  born  to  a  pri 
vate  and  humble  fortune.  In  his  latter  days, 
he  had  the  weakness  of  wishing  to  add  to  his 
crowns  and  badges  the  prescription  of  aristoc 
racy:  but  he  knew  his  debt  to  his  austere 
education,  and  made  no  secret  of  his  contempt 
for  the  born  kings,  and  for  "  the  hereditary 
asses,"  as  he  coarsely  styled  the  Bourbons. 
He  said  that,  "  in  their  exile,  they  had  learned 
nothing,  and  forgot  nothing."  Bonaparte  had 
passed  through  all  the  degrees  of  military 
service,  but  also  was  citizen  before  he  was 


222  "Representative 


emperor,  and  so  has  the  key  to  citizenship. 
His  remarks  and  estimates  discover  the  in 
formation  and  justness  of  measurement  of  the 
middle  class.  Those  who  had  to  deal  with 
him,  found  that  he  was  not  to  be  imposed 
upon,  but  could  cipher  as  well  as  another  man. 
This  appears  in  all  parts  of  his  Memoirs,  dic 
tated  at  St.  Helena.  When  the  expenses  of 
the  empress,  of  his  household,  of  his  palaces, 
had  accumulated  great  debts,  Napoleon  exam 
ined  the  bills  of  the  creditors  himself,  de 
tected  overcharges  and  errors,  and  reduced 
the  claims  by  considerable  sums. 

His  grand  weapon,  namely,  the  millions 
whom  he  directed,  he  owed  to  the  representa 
tive  character  which  clothed  him.  He  in 
terests  us  as  he  stands  for  France  and  for 
Europe  ;  and  he  exists  as  captain  and  king, 
only  as  far  as  the  Revolution,  or  the  interest 
of  the  industrious  masses,  found  an  organ  and 
a  leader  in  him.  In  the  social  interests,  he 
knew  the  meaning  and  value  of  labor,  and 
threw  himself  naturally  on  that  side.  I  like 
an  incident  mentioned  by  one  of  his  biogra 
phers  at  St.  Helena.  "  When  walking  with 
Mrs.  Balcombe,  some  servants,  carrying 
heavy  boxes,  passed  by  on  the  road,  and  Mrs. 
Balcombe  desired  them,  in  rather  an  angry 
tone,  to  keep  back.  Napoleon  interfered,  say 
ing,  '  Respect  the  burden,  Madam.' "  In  the 
time  of  the  empire,  he  directed  attention  to  the 
improvement  and  embellishment  of  the  markets 


flapoleon;  or,  {Ibe  /Ran  of  tbe  TJQorlD  223 


of  the  capital.  "  The  market-place,"  he  said, 
"is  the  Louvre  of  the  common  people."  The 
principal  works  that  have  survived  him  are 
his  magnificent  roads.  He  filled  the  troops 
with  his  spirit,  and  a  sort  of  freedom  and  com 
panionship  grew  up  between  him  and  them, 
which  the  forms  of  his  court  never  permitted 
between  the  officers  and  himself.  They  per 
formed,  under  his  eye,  that  which  no  others 
could  do.  The  best  document  of  his  relation 
to  his  troops  is  the  order  of  the  day  on  the 
morning  of  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  in  which 
Napoleon  promises  the  troops  that  he  will 
keep  his  person  out  of  reach  of  fire.  This 
declaration,  which  is  the  reverse  of  that  ordi 
narily  made  by  generals  and  sovereigns  on  the 
eve  of  a  battle,  sufficiently  explains  the  devo 
tion  of  the  army  to  their  leader. 

But  though  there  is  in  particulars  this 
identity  between  Napoleon  and  the  mass  of 
the  people,  his  real  strength  lay  in  their  con 
viction  that  he  was  their  representative  in  his 
genius  and  aims,  not  only  when  he  courted, 
but  when  he  controlled  and  even  when  he  dec 
imated  them  by  his  conscriptions.  He  knew, 
as  well  as  any  Jacobin  in  France,  how  to  phi 
losophize  on  liberty  and  equality  ;  and,  when 
allusion  was  made  to  the  precious  blood  of 
centuries,  which  was  spilled  by  the  killing  of 
the  Due  d'Enghien,  he  suggested,  "  Neither  is 
my  blood  ditch-water."  The  people  felt  that 
no  longer  the  throne  was  occupied,  and  the 


224  "Representative  flfcen 


land  sucked  of  its  nourishment,  by  a  small 
class  of  legitimates,  secluded  from  all  com 
munity  with  the  children  of  the  soil,  and  hold 
ing  the  ideas  and  superstitions  of  a  long-for 
gotten  state  of  society.  Instead  of  that  vam- 
pyre,  a  man  of  themselves  held,  in  the  Tuilleries, 
knowledge  and  ideas  like  their  own,  opening, 
of  course,  to  them  and  their  children,  all 
places  of  power  and  trust.  The  day  of  sleepy, 
selfish  policy,  ever  narrowing  the  means  and 
opportunities  of  young  men,  was  ended,  and  a 
day  of  expansion  and  demand  was  come.  A 
market  for  all  the  powers  and  productions  of 
man  was  opened  ;  brilliant  prizes  glittered  in 
the  eyes  of  youth  and  talent.  The  old,  iron- 
bound,  feudal  France  was  changed  into  a 
young  Ohio  or  New  York ;  and  those  who 
smarted  under  the  immediate  rigors  of  the  new 
monarch,  pardoned  them,  as  the  necessary 
severities  of  the  military  system  which  had 
driven  out  the  oppressor.  And  even  when  the 
majority  of  the  people  had  begun  to  ask, 
whether  they  had  really  gained  anything  under 
the  exhausting  levies  of  men  and  money  of 
the  new  master, — the  whole  talent  of  the  coun 
try,  in  every  rank  and  kindred,  took  his  part, 
and  defended  him  as  its  natural  patron.  In 
1814,  when  advised  to  rely  on  the  higher 
classes,  Napoleon  said  to  those  around  him, 
**  Gentlemen,  in  the  situation  in  which  I  stand, 
my  only  nobility  is  the  rabble  of  the  Fau 
bourgs." 


HapoIeon ;  or,  Ebe  /Ban  of  tbc  TJdorlo  225 


Napoleon  met  this  natural  expectation. 
The  necessity  of  his  position  required  a  hos 
pitality  to  every  sort  of  talent,  and  its  appoint 
ment  to  trusts ;  and  his  feeling  went  along 
with  this  policy.  Like  every  superior  person, 
he  undoubtedly  felt  a  desire  for  men  and  com 
peers,  and  a  wish  to  measure  his  power  with 
other  masters,  and  an  impatience  of  fools  and 
underlings.  In  Italy,  he  sought  for  men,  and 
found  none.  "  Good  God  !  "  he  said,  "  how 
rare  men  are  !  There  are  eighteen  millions 
in  Italy,  and  I  have  with  difficulty  found  two, 
— Dandolo  and  Melzi."  In  later  years,  with 
larger  experience,  his  respect  for  mankind  was 
not  increased.  In  a  moment  of  bitterness,  he 
said,  to  one  of  his  oldest  friends,  "  Men  de 
serve  the  contempt  with  which  they  inspire 
me.  I  have  only  to  put  some  gold  lace  on  the 
coat  of  my  virtuous  republicans,  and  they  im 
mediately  become  just  what  I  wish  them." 
This  impatience  at  levity  was,  however,  an 
oblique  tribute  of  respect  to  those  able  persons 
who  commanded  his  regard,  not  only  when  he 
found  them  friends  and  coadjutors,  but  also 
when  they  resisted  his  will.  He  could  not 
confound  Fox  and  Pitt,  Carnot,  Lafayette,  and 
Bernadotte,  with  the  danglers  of  his  court ; 
and,  in  spite  of  the  detraction  which  his  sys 
tematic  egotism  dictated  toward  the  great  cap 
tains  who  conquered  with  and  for  him,  ample 
acknowledgments  are  made  by  him  to  Lannes, 
Duroc,  Kleber,  Dessaix,  Massena,  Murat,  Ney, 


226"  "Representative  ffoen 


and  Augereau.  If  he  felt  himself  their  patron, 
and  the  founder  of  their  fortunes,  as  when  he 
said,  "  I  made  my  generals  out  of  mud,"  he 
could  not  hide  his  satisfaction  in  receiving 
from  them  a  seconding  and  support  commen 
surate  with  the  grandeur  of  his  enterprise.  In 
the  Russian  campaign,  he  was  so  much  im 
pressed  by  the  courage  and  resources  of 
Marshal  Ney,  that  he  said,  "  I  have  two  hun 
dred  millions  in  my  coffers,  and  I  would  give 
them  all  for  Ney."  The  characters  which  he 
has  drawn  of  several  of  his  marshals  are  dis 
criminating,  and,  though  they  did  not  content 
the  insatiable  vanity  of  French  officers,  are,  no 
doubt,  substantially  just.  And,  in  fact,  every 
species  of  merit  was  sought  and  advanced  un 
der  his  government.  "I  know,"  he  said,  "the 
depth  and  draught  of  water  of  every  one  of  my 
generals."  Natural  power  was  sure  to  be  well 
received  at  his  court.  Seventeen  men,  in  his 
time,  were  raised  from  common  soldiers  to  the 
rank  of  king,  marshal,  duke,  or  general :  and 
the  crosses  of  his  Legion  of  Honor  were  given 
to  personal  valor,  and  not  to  family  connexion. 
"When  soldiers  have  been  baptized  in  the 
fire  of  a  battle-field,  they  have  all  one  rank  in 
my  eyes." 

When  a  natural  king  becomes  a  titular  king, 
everybody  is  pleased  and  satisfied.  The  Rev 
olution  entitled  the  strong  populace  of  the 
Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  and  every  horse-boy 
and  powder-monkey  in  the  army,  to  look  on 


flapoteon;  or,  tTbe  /Ran  of  tbe  TKHorlfc  227 


Napoleon,  as  flesh  of  his  flesh,  and  the  creature 
of  his  party  :  but  there  is  something  in  the 
success  of  grand  talent  which  enlists  an  univer 
sal  sympathy.  For,  in  the  prevalence  of  sense 
and  spirit  over  stupidity  and  malversation,  all 
reasonable  men  have  an  interest ;  and,  as  in 
tellectual  beings,  we  feel  the  air  purified  by 
the  electric  shock,  when  material  force  is  over 
thrown  by  intellectual  energies.  As  soon  as 
we  are  removed  out  of  the  reach  of  local  and 
accidental  partialities,  man  feels  that  Napoleon 
fights  for  him ;  these  are  honest  victories ; 
this  strong  steam-engine  does  our  work. 
Whatever  appeals  to  the  imagination,  by  tran 
scending  the  ordinary  limits  of  human-  ability, 
wonderfully  encourages  and  liberates  us. 
This  capacious  head,  revolving  and  disposing 
sovereignly  trains  of  affairs,  and  animating 
such  multitudes  of  agents ;  this  eye,  which 
looked  through  Europe ;  this  prompt  inven 
tion  ;  this  inexhaustible  resource  ; — what 
events  !  what  romantic  pictures  !  what  strange 
situations  ! — when  spying  the  Alps,  by  a  sun 
set  in  the  Sicilian  sea ;  drawing  up  his  army 
for  battle,  in  sight  of  the  Pyramids,  and  saying 
to  his  troops,  "  From  the  tops  of  those 
pyramids,  forty  centuries  look  down  on  you  ;  " 
fording  the  Red  Sea ;  wading  in  the  gulf  of 
the  Isthmus  of  Suez.  On  the  shore  of  Ptole- 
mais,  gigantic  projects  agitated  him.  '*  Had 
Acre  fallen,  I  should  have  changed  the  face 
of  the  world."  His  army,  on  the  night  of  the 


228  Hepresentatfve 


battle  of  Austerlitz,  which  was  the  anniversary 
of  his  inauguration  as  Emperor,  presented  him 
with  a  bouquet  of  forty  standards  taken  in  the 
fight.  Perhaps  it  is  a  little  puerile,  the  pleasure 
he  took  in  making  these  contrasts  glaring ;  as 
when  he  pleased  himself  with  making  kings 
wait  in  his  antechambers,  at  Tilsit,  at  Paris, 
and  at  Erfurt. 

We  cannot,  in  the  universal  imbecility,  inde 
cision,  and  indolence  of  men,  sufficiently  con 
gratulate  ourselves  on  this  strong  and  ready 
actor,  who  took  occasion  by  the  beard,  and 
showed  us  how  much  may  be  accomplished  by 
the  mere  force  of  such  virtues  as  all  men  pos 
sess  in  less  degrees ;  namely,  by  punctuality, 
by  personal  attention,  by  courage,  and  thor 
oughness.  "The  Austrians,"  he  said,  "  do  not 
know  the  value  of  time."  I  should  cite  him, 
in  his  earlier  years,  as  a  model  of  prudence. 
His  power  does  not  consist  in  any  wild  or 
extravagant  force ;  in  any  enthusiasm,  like 
Mahomet's  ;  or  singular  power  of  persuasion ; 
but  in  the  exercise  of  common  sense  on  each 
emergency,  instead  of  abiding  by  rules  and 
customs.  The  lesson  he  teaches  is  that  which 
vigor  always  teaches, — that  there  is  always 
room  for  it.  To  what  heaps  of  cowardly 
doubts  is  not  that  man's  life  an  answer. 
When  he  appeared,  it  was  the  belief  of  all 
military  men  that  there  could  be  nothing  new 
in  war ;  as  it  is  the  belief  of  men  to-day,  that 
nothing  new  can  be  undertaken  in  politics,  or 


or,  ftbe  /Ran  ot  tbe  "GdotW  229 


in  church,  or  in  letters,  or  in  trade,  or  in  farm 
ing,  or  in  our  social  manners  and  customs ; 
and  as  it  is,  at  all  times,  the  belief  of  society 
that  the  world  is  used  up.  But  Bonaparte 
knew  better  than  society ;  and,  moreover, 
knew  that  he  knew  better.  I  think  all 
men  know  better  than  they  do ;  know  that 
the  institutions  we  so  volubly  commend  are  go- 
carts  and  baubles;  but  they  dare  not  trust 
their  presentiments.  Bonaparte  relied  on  his 
own  sense,  and  did  not  care  a  bean  for  other 
people's.  The  world  treated  his  novelties  just 
as  it  treats  everybody's  novelties, — made  in 
finite  objection ;  mustered  all  the  impedi 
ments  ;  but  he  snapped  his  ringer  at  their  ob 
jections.  "  What  creates  great  difficulty,"  he 
remarks,  "  in  the  profession  of  the  land  com 
mander,  is  the  necessity  of  feeding  so  many 
men  and  animals.  If  he  allows  himself  to  be 
guided  by  the  commissaries,  he  will  never  stir, 
and  all  his  expeditions  will  fail."  An  ex 
ample  of  his  common  sense  is  what  he  says  of 
the  passage  of  the  Alps  in  winter,  which  all 
writers,  one  repeating  after  the  other,  had 
described  as  impracticable.  "  The  winter," 
says  Napoleon,  "  is  not  the  most  unfavorable 
season  for  the  passage  of  lofty  mountains. 
The  snow  is  then  firm,  the  weather  settled, 
and  there  is  nothing  to  fear  from  avalanches, 
the  real  and  only  danger  to  be  apprehended  in 
the  Alps.  On  those  high  mountains,  there 
are  often  very  fine  days  in  December,  of  a  dry 


230  "Representative  dfcen 


cold,  with  extreme  calmness  in  the  air."  Read 
his  account,  too,  of  the  way  in  which  battles 
are  gained.  "  In  all  battles,  a  moment  occurs, 
when  the  bravest  troops,  after  having  made 
the  greatest  efforts,  feel  inclined  to  run.  That 
terror  proceeds  from  a  want  of  confidence  in 
their  own  courage ;  and  it  only  requires  a 
slight  opportunity,  a  pretence,  to  restore  con 
fidence  to  them.  The  art  is  to  give  rise  to  the 
opportunity,  and  to  invent  the  pretence.  At 
Arcola,  I  won  the  battle  with  twenty-five  horse 
men.  I  seized  that  moment  of  lassitude,  gave 
every  man  a  trumpet,  and  gained  the  day  with 
this  handful.  You  see  that  two  armies  are 
two  bodies  which  meet,  and  endeavor  to 
frighten  each  other  :  a  moment  of  panic  occurs, 
and  that  moment  must  be  turned  to  advantage. 
When  a  man  has  been  present  in  many  actions, 
he  distinguishes  that  moment  without  diffi 
culty;  it  is  as  easy  as  casting  up  an  addi 
tion." 

This  deputy  of  the  nineteenth  century  added 
to  his  gifts  a  capacity  for  speculation  on  gen 
eral  topics.  He  delighted  in  running  through 
the  range  of  practical,  of  literary,  and  of  ab 
stract  questions.  His  opinion  is  always  orig 
inal,  and  to  the  purpose.  On  the  voyage  rx> 
Egypt,  he  liked,  after  dinner,  to  fix  on  three  oi 
four  persons  to  support  a  proposition,  and  as 
many  to  oppose  it.  He  gave  a  subject,  and 
the  discussions  turned  on  questions  of  religion^. 
the  different  kinds  of  government,  and  the  art 


or,  Gbe  /foan  of  tbe  TTClorlo  231 


of  war.  One  day,  he  asked,  whether  tha 
planets  were  inhabited?  On  another,  what 
was  the  age  of  the  world  ?  Then  he  proposed 
to  consider  the  probability  of  the  destruction 
of  the  globe,  either  by  water  or  by  fire  ;  at  an 
other  time,  the  truth  or  fallacy  of  presentiments, 
and  the  interpretation  of  dreams.  He  was  very 
fond  of  talking  of  religion.  In  1806,  he  con 
versed  with  Fournier,  bishop  of  Montpellier,  on 
matters  of  theology.  There  were  two  points  on 
which  they  could  not  agree,  viz.,  that  of  hell, 
and  that  of  salvation  out  of  the  pale  of  the 
church.  The  Emperor  told  Josephine,  that  he 
disputed  like  a  devil  on  these  two  points,  on 
which  the  bishop  was  inexorable.  To  the  phi 
losophers  he  readily  yielded  all  that  was  proved 
against  religion  as  the  work  of  men  and  time ; 
but  he  would  not  hear  of  materialism.  One  fine 
night,  on  deck,  amid  a  clatter  of  materialism, 
Bonaparte  pointed  to  the  stars,  and  said,  "  You 
may  talk  as  long  as  you  please,  gentle 
men,  but  who  made  all  that  ? "  He  delighted 
in  the  conversation  of  men  of  science,  particu 
larly  of  Monge  and  Berthollet ;  but  the  men  of 
letters  he  slighted  ;  "  they  were  manufacturers 
of  phrases."  Of  medicine,  too,  he  was  fond  of 
talking,  and  with  those  of  its  practitioners 
whom  he  most  esteemed, — with  Corvisart  at 
Paris,  and  with  Antonomarchi  at  St.  Helena. 
"  Believe  me,"  he  said  to  the  last,  "  we  had 
better  leave  off  all  these  remedies :  Me  is  a 
fortress  which  neither  you  nor  I  know  any- 


23* 


thing  about.  Why  throw  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  its  defence  ?  Its  own  means  are  superior  to 
all  the  apparatus  of  your  laboratories.  Cor- 
visart  candidly  agreed  with  me,  that  all  your 
filthy  mixtures  are  good  for  nothing.  Medi- 
•*ine  is  a  collection  of  uncertain  prescriptions, 
,he  results  of  which,  taken  collectively,  are 
more  fatal  than  useful  to  mankind.  Water, 
air,  and  cleanliness,  are  the  chief  articles  in 
my  pharmacopeia." 

His  memoirs,  dictated  to  Count  Montholon 
and  General  Gourgaud,  at  St.  Helena,  have 
great  value,  after  all  the  deduction  that,  it 
seems,  is  to  be  made  from  them,  on  account  of 
his  known  disingenuousness.  He  has  the  good 
nature  of  strength  and  conscious  superiority. 
I  admire  his  simple,  clear  narrative  of  his 
battles  ; — good  as  Caesar's  ;  his  good-natured 
and  sufficiently  respectful  account  of  Marshal 
Wurmser  and  his  other  antagonists,  and  his 
own  equality  as  a  writer  to  his  varying  subject. 
The  most  agreeable  portion  is  the  Campaign 
in  Egypt. 

He  had  hours  of  thought  and  wisdom.  In 
intervals  of  leisure,  either  in  the  camp  or  the 
palace,  Napoleon  appears  as  a  man  of  genius, 
directing  on  abstract  questions  the  native 
appetite  for  truth,  and  the  impatience  of  words, 
he  was  wont  to  show  in  war.  He  could  enjoy 
every  play  of  invention,  a  romance,  a  ban  mot, 
as  well  as  a  stratagem  in  a  campaign.  He 
delighted  to  fascinate  Josephine  and  her  ladies, 


flapoleon ;  or,  tfbe  /Ran  of  the  tdorlo  233 


in  a  dim-lighted  apartment,  by  the  terrors  of  a 
fiction,  to  which  his  voice  and  dramatic  power 
lent  every  addition. 

I  call  Napoleon  the  agent  or  attorney  of  the 
middle  class  of  modern  society;  of  the  throng 
who  fill  the  markets,  shops,  counting-houses, 
manufactories,  ships,  of  the  modern  world,  aim 
ing  to  be  rich.  He  was  the  agitator,  the  de 
stroyer  of  prescription,  the  internal  improver, 
the  liberal,  the  radical,  the  inventor  of  means, 
the  opener  of  doors  and  markets,  the  subverter 
of  monopoly  and  abuse.  Of  course,  the  rich 
and  aristocratic  did  not  like  him.  England,  the 
center  of  capital,  and  Rome  and  Austria, 
centers  of  tradition  and  genealogy,  opposed 
him.  The  consternation  of  the  dull  and 
conservative  classes,  the  terror  of  the  foolish 
old  men  and  old  women  of  the  Roman  conclave, 
— who  in  their  despair  took  hold  of  anything, 
and  would  cling  to  red-hot  iron, --the  vain 
attempts  of  statists  to  amuse  and  deceive  him, 
of  the  emperor  of  Austria  to  bribe  him  ;  and 
the  instinct  of  the  young,  ardent,  and  active 
men,  everywhere,  which  pointed  him  out  as 
the  giant  of  the  middle  class,  make  his  history 
bright  and  commanding.  He  had  the  virtues 
of  the  masses  of  his  constituents  :  he  had  also 
ieir  vices.  I  am  sorry  that  the  brilliant  picture 
has  its  reverse.  But  that  is  the  fatal  quality 
which  we  discover  in  our  pursuit  of  wealth, 
that  it  is  treacherous,  and  is  bought  by  the 
breaking  or  weakening  of  the  sentiments  :  and 


234  Representative 


it  is  inevitable  that  we  should  find  the  same  fact 
in  the  history  of  this  champion,  who  proposed 
to  himself  simply  a  brilliant  career,  without  any 
stipulation  or  scruple  concerning  the  means. 

Bonaparte  was  singularly  destitute  of  gen 
erous  sentiments.  The  highest-placed  individ 
ual  in  the  most  cultivated  age  and  population 
of  the  world, — he  has  not  the  merit  of  common 
truth  and  honesty.  He  is  unjust  to  his 
generals ;  egotistic,  and  monopolizing ;  meanly 
stealing  the  credit  of  their  great  actions  from 
Kellermann,  from  Bernadotte;  intriguing  to 
involve  his  faithful  Junot  in  hopeless  bank 
ruptcy,  in  order  to  drive  him  to  a  distance 
from  Paris,  because  the  familiarity  of  his 
manners  offends  the  new  pride  of  his  throne. 
He  is  a  boundless  liar.  The  official  paper,  his 
"  Moniteurs,"  and  all  his  bulletins,  are  proverbs 
for  saying  what  he  wished  to  be  believed  ;  and 
worse, — he  sat,  in  his  premature  old  age,  in  his 
lonely  island,  coldly  falsifying  facts,  and  dates, 
and  characters,  and  giving  to  history  a  theatri 
cal  dclat.  Like  all  Frenchmen,  he  has  a 
passion  for  stage  effect.  Every  action  that 
breathes  of  generosity  is  poisoned  by  this  cal 
culation.  His  star,  his  love  of  glory,  his  doc 
trine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  are  all 
French.  "  I  must  dazzle  and  astonish.  If  I 
were  to  give  the  liberty  of  the  press,  my  power 
could  not  last  three  days."  To  make  a  great 
noise  is  his  favorite  design.  "  A  great  reputa 
tion  is  a  great  noise  :  the  more  there  is  made, 


Hapoleon ;  or,  Cbc  /Ran  of  tbe  TOOttb  235 


the  farther  off  it  is  heard.  Laws,  institutions, 
monuments,  nations,  all  fall  ;  but  the  noise 
continues,  and  resounds  in  after  ages."  His 
doctrine  of  immortality  is  simply  fame.  His 
theory  of  influence  is  not  flattering.  "  There 
are  two  levers  for  moving  men, — interest  and 
fear.  Love  is  a  silly  infatuation,  depend  upon 
it.  Friendship  is  but  a  name.  I  love  nobody. 
I  do  not  even  love  my  brothers :  perhaps 
Joseph,  a  little,  from  habit,  and  because  he  is 
my  elder;  and  Duroc,  I  love  him  too';  but 
why? — because  his  character  pleases  me :  he 
is  stern  and  resolute,  and,  I  believe,  the  fellow 
never  shed  a  tear.  For  my  part,  I  know  very 
well  that  I  have  no  true  friends.  As  long  as  I 
continue  to  be  what  I  am,  I  may  have  as  many 
pretended  friends  as  I  please.  Leave  sensibil 
ity  to  women  :  but  men  should  be  firm  in  heart 
and  purpose,  or  they  should  have  nothing  to 
do  with  war  and  government."  He  was 
thoroughly  unscrupulous.  He  would  steal, 
slander,  assassinate,  drown,  and  poison,  as  his 
interest  dictated.  He  had  no  generosity  ;  but 
mere  vulgar  hatred :  he  was  intensely  selfish  : 
he  was  perfidious  :  he  cheated  at  cards  :  he 
was  a  prodigious  gossip  ;  and  opened  letters  ; 
and  delighted  in  his  infamous  police ;  and 
rubbed  his  hands  with  joy  when  he  had  inter 
cepted  some  morsel  of  intelligence  concerning 
the  men  and  women  about  him,  boasting  that 
"  he  knew  everything  ;  "  and  interfered  with 
the  cutting  the  dresses  of  the  women  ;  and 


236  'Representative  rflben 


listened  after  the  hurrahs  and  the  compliments 
of  the  street,  incognito.  His  manners  were 
coarse.  He  treated  women  with  low  familiarity. 
He  had  the  habit  of  pulling  their  ears  and 
pinching  their  cheeks,  when  he  was  in  good 
humor,  and  of  pulling  the  ears  and  whiskers 
of  men,  and  of  striking  and  horse-play  with 
them,  to  his  last  days.  It  does  not  appear 
that  he  listened  at  keyholes,  or,  at  least,  that 
he  was  caught  at  it.  In  short,  when  you  have 
penetrated  through  all  the  circles  of  power  and 
splendor,  you  were  not  dealing  with  a  gentle 
man,  at  last ;  but  with  an  impostor  and  a  rogue  : 
and  he  fully  deserves  the  epithet  of  Jupiter 
Scapin,  or  a  sort  of  Scamp  Jupiter. 

In  describing  the  two  parties  into  which 
modern  society  divides  itself, — the  democrat 
and  the  conservative, — I  said,  Bonaparte  rep 
resents  the  democrat,  or  the  party  of  men  of 
business,  against  the  stationary  or  conservative 
party.  I  omitted  then  to  say,  what  is  material 
to  the  statement,  namely,  that  these  two  parties 
differ  only  as  young  and  old.  The  democrat 
is  a  young  conservative  ;  the  conservative  is 
an  old  democrat.  The  aristocrat  is  the  demcK 
crat  ripe,  and  gone  to  seed, — because  both 
parties  stand  on  the  one  ground  of  the  supreme 
value  of  property,  which  one  endeavors  to  get, 
and  the  other  to  keep.  Bonaparte  may  be 
said  to  represent  the  whole  history  of  this 
party,  its  youth  and  its  age ;  yes,  and  with 


Tlapoleon ;  or,  tlbe  flfcan  of  tbc  Tidotlo  237 


poetic  justice,  its  fate,  in  his  own.  The 
counter-revolution,  the  counter-party,  still 
waits  for  its  organ  and  representative,  in  a 
lover  and  a  man  of  truly  public  and  universal 
aims. 

Here  was  an  experiment,  under  the  most 
favorable  conditions,  of  the  powers  of  intellect 
without  conscience.  Never  was  such  a  leader 
so  endowed,  and  so  weaponed  ;  never  leader 
found  such  aids  and  followers.  And  what  was 
the  result  of  this  vast  talent  and  power,  of 
these  immense  armies,  burned  cities,  squan 
dered  treasures,  immolated  millions  of  men,  of 
this  demoralized  Europe  ?  It  came  to  no  result. 
All  passed  away,  like  the  smoke  of  his  artillery, 
and  left  no  trace.  He  left  France  smaller, 
poorer,  feebler,  than  he  found  it ;  and  the  whole 
contest  for  freedom  was  to  be  begun  again. 
The  attempt  was,  in  principle,  suicidal.  France 
served  him  with  life,  and  limb,  and  estate,  as 
long  as  it  could  identify  its  interest  with  him  ; 
but  when  men  saw  that  after  victory  was  an 
other  war;  after  the  destruction  of  armies,  new 
conscriptions ;  and  tluy  who  had  toiled  so 
desperately  were  never  nearer  to  the  reward, 
— they  could  not  spend  what  they  had  earned, 
nor  repose  on  their  down-beds,  nor  strut  in 
their  chateaux, — they  deserted  him.  Men 
found  that  his  absorbing  egotism  was  deadly 
to  all  other  men.  It  resembled  the  torpedo, 
which  inflicts  a  succession  of  shocks  on  any 
one  who  takes  hold  of  it,  producing  spasm* 


233  "Representative  /fcen 


which  contract  the  muscles  of  the  hand,  so 
that  the  man  cannot  open  his  fingers  ;  and  the 
animal  inflicts  new  and  more  violent  shocks, 
until  he  paralyzes  and  kills  his  victim.  So, 
this  exorbitant  egotist  narrowed,  impoverished, 
and  absorbed  the  power  and  existence  of  those 
who  served  him  ;  and  the  universal  cry  of 
France,  and  of  Europe,  in  1814,  was,  "enough 
of  him  ;  "  "  assez  de  Bonaparte" 

It  was  not  Bonaparte's  fault.  He  did  all 
that  in  him  lay,  to  live  and  thrive  without 
moral  principle.  It  was  the  nature  of  things, 
the  eternal  law  of  man  and  of  the  world,  which 
baulked  and  ruined  him  ;  and  the  result,  in  a 
million  experiments,  will  be  the  same.  Every 
experiment,  by  multitudes  or  by  individuals, 
that  has  a  sensual  and  selfish  aim,  will  fail. 
The  pacific  Fourier  will  be  as  inefficient  as  the 
pernicious  Napoleon.  As  long  as  our  civiliza 
tion  is  essentially  one  of  property,  of  fences, 
of  exclusiveness,  it  will  be  mocked  by  delu 
sions.  Our  riches  will  leave  us  sick ;  there  will 
be  bitterness  in  our  laughter;  and  our  wine 
will  burn  our  mouth.  Only  that  good  profits, 
which  we  can  taste  with  all  doors  open,  and 
which  serves  all  men. 


GOETHE ;  OR,  THE  WRITER. 


GOETHE. 


VII. 

Goethe;  or,  The  Writer 


i  FIND  a  provision,  in  the  constitution  of  the 
world,  for  the  writer  or  secretary,  who  is  to  re 
port  the  doings  of  the  miraculous  spirit  of  life 
that  everywhere  throbs  and  works.  His  office 
is  a  reception  of  the  facts  into  the  mind,  and 
then  a  selection  of  the  eminent  and  character 
istic  experiences. 

Nature  will  be  reported.  All  things  are  en 
gaged  in  writing  their  history.  The  planet, 
the  pebble,  goes  attended  by  its  shadow.  The 
rolling  rock  leaves  its  scratches  on  the  mount 
ain  ;  the  river,  its  channel  in  the  soil ;  the 
animal,  its  bones  in  the  stratum ;  the  fern  and 
leaf,  their  modest  epitaph  in  the  coal.  The 
falling  drop  makes  its  sculpture  in  the  sand  or 
the  stone.  Not  a  foot  steps  into  the  snow,  or 
along  the  ground,  but  prints,  in  characters 
more  or  less  lasting,  a  map  of  its  march. 
Every  act  of  the  man  inscribes  itself  in  the 
memories  of  hi*  fellows,  and  in  his  own  man- 
16 


242  "(Representative  dfcen 


ners  and  face.  The  air  is  full  of  sounds  ;  the 
sky,  of  tokens ;  the  ground  is  all  memoranda 
and  signatures;  and  every  object  covered  over 
•with  hints,  which  speak  to  the  intelligent. 

In  nature,  this  self-registration  is  incessant, 
and  the  narrative  is  the  print  cf  the  seal.  It 
neither  exceeds  nor  comes  short  of  the  fact. 
But  nature  strives  upward  ;  and,  in  man,  the 
report,  is  something  more  than  print  of  the 
seal,  It  is  a  new  and  finer  form  of  the  original. 
The  record  is  alive,  as  that  which  it  recorded 
is  alive.  In  man,  the  memory  is  a  kind  of 
looking-glass,  which,  having  received  the  im 
ages  of  surrounding  objects,  is  touched  with 
life,  and  disposes  them  in  a  new  order.  The 
facts  which  transpired  do  not  lie  in  it  inert ; 
but  some  subside,  and  others  shine  ;  so  that 
soon  we  have  a  new  picture,  composed  of  the 
eminent  experiences.  The  man  cooperates. 
He  loves  to  communicate  ;  and  that  which  is 
for  him  to  say  lies  as  a  load  on  his  heart  until 
it  is  delivered.  But,  besides  the  universal  joy 
of  conversation,  some  men  are  born  with  ex 
alted  powers  for  this  second  creation.  Men 
are  born  to  write.  The  gardener  saves  every 
slip,  and  seed,  and  peach -stone :  his  vocation 
is  to  be  a  planter  of  plants.  Not  less  does  the 
writer  attend  his  affair.  Whatever  he  beholds 
or  experiences,  comes  to  him  as  a  model,  and 
sits  for  its  picture.  He  counts  it  all  nonsense 
that  they  say,  that  some  things  are  -undescrib- 
able.  He  believes  that  all  that  can  be  thought 


<5oetbe ;  or,  ^Tbe  Idriter  243 

can  be  written,  first  or  last ;  and  he  would  re 
port  the  Holy  Ghost,  or  attempt  it.  Nothing 
so  broad,  so  subtle,  or  so  dear,  but  comes 
therefore  commended  to  his  pen, — and  he  will 
write.  In  his  eyes,  a  man  is  the  faculty  of 
reporting,  and  the  universe  is  the  possibility 
of  being  reported.  In  conversation,  in  calam 
ity,  he  finds  new  materials  ;  as  our  German 
poet  said,  "  some  god  gave  me  the  power  to 
paint  what  I  suffer."  He  draws  his  rents  from 
rage  and  pain.  By  acting  rashly,  he  buys  the 
power  of  talking  wisely.  Vexations,  and  a 
tempest  of  passion,  only  fill  his  sails ;  as  the 
good  Luther  writes,  "  When  I  am  angry  I  can 
pray  well,  and  preach  well ;  "  and  if  we  knew 
the  genesis  of  fine  strokes  of  eloquence,  they 
might  recall  the  complaisance  of  Sultan  Amu- 
rath,  who  struck  off  some  Persian  heads,  that 
his  physician,  Vesalius,  might  see  the  spasms 
in  the  muscles  of  the  neck.  His  failures  are 
the  preparation  of  his  victories.  A  new 
thought,  or  a  crisis  of  passion,  apprises  him 
that  all  that  he  has  yet  learned  and  written  is 
exoteric — is  not  the  fact,  but  some  rumor  of 
the  fact.  What  then  ?  Does  he  throw  away 
the  pen  ?  No ;  he  begins  again  to  describe  in 
the  new  light  which  has  shined  on  him, — if,  by 
some  means,  he  may  yet  save  some  true  word. 
Nature  conspires.  Whatever  can  be  thought 
can  be  spoken,  and  still  rises  for  utterance, 
though  to  rude  and  stammering  organs.  If 
they  cannot  compass  it,  it  waits  and  works. 


244.  IRepresentatfve  flfcen 


until,  at  last,  it  moulds  them  to  its  perfect  will, 
and  is  articulated. 

This  striving  atter  imitative  expression, 
•which  one  meets  everywhere,  is  significant  of 
the  aim  of  nature,  but  is  mere  stenography. 
There  are  higher  degrees,  and  nature  has  more 
splendid  endowments  for  those  whom  she 
elects  to  a  superior  office  ;  for  the  class  of 
scholars  or  writers,  who  see  connection  where 
the  multitude  see  fragments,  and  who  are  im 
pelled  tc  exhibit  the  facts  in  order,  and  so  to 
supply  the  axis  on  which  the  frame  of  things 
turns.  Nature  has  dearly  at  heart  the  forma 
tion  of  the.  speculative  man,  or  scholar.  It  is 
an  end  never  lost  sight  of,  and  is  prepared  in 
the  original  casting  of  things.  He  is  no  per 
missive  or  accidental  appearance,  but  an 
organic  agent,  one  of  the  estates  of  the  realm, 
provided  and  prepared,  from  of  old  and  from 
everlasting,  in  the  knitting  and  contexture  of 
things.  Presentiments,  impulses,  cheer  him. 
There  is  a  certain  heat  in  the  breast,  which 
attends  the  perception  of  a  primary  truth, 
which  is  the  shining  of  the  spiritual  sun  down 
into  the  shaft  of  the  mine.  Every  thought 
which  dawns  on  the  mind,  in  the  moment  of  its 
emergency  announces  its  own  rank, — whether 
it  is  some  whimsy,  or  whether  it  is  a  power. 

If  he  have  his  incitements,  there  is,  on  the 
other  side,  invitation  and  need  enough  of  his 
gift.  Society  has,  at  all  times,  the  same  want, 
namely,  of  one  sane  man  with  adequate  powers 


Soetbe ;  or,  Cbc  Write  245 

of  expression  to  hold  up  each  object  of  mono 
mania  in  its  right  relations.  The  ambitious 
•vid  mercenary  bring  their  last  new  mumbo- 
jumbo,  whether  tariff,  Texas,  railroad,  Roman 
ism,  mesmerism,  or  California  ;  and,  by  de 
taching  the  object  from  its  reiations;  easily 
succeed  in  making  it  seen  in  a  glare ;  and  a 
multitude  go  mad  about  it,  and  they  are  not 
tc  be  reproved  or  cured  by  the  opposite  mul 
titude,  who  are  kept  from  this  particular  in 
sanity  by  an  equal  frenzy  on  another  crochet. 
Bi^  let  one  man  have  the  comprehensive  eye 
that  can  replace  this  isolated  prodigy  in  its 
right  neighborhood  and  bearings, — the  illusion 
vanishes,  and  the  returning  reason  of  the  com 
munity  thanks  the  reason  of  the  monitor. 

The  scholar  is  the  man  of  the  ages,  but  he 
must  also  wish  with  other  men  to  stand  well 
•with  his  contemporaries.  But  there  is  a  certain 
ridicule,  among  superficial  people,  thrown  on 
the  scholars  or  clerisy,  which  is  of  no  import, 
unless  the  scholars  heed  it.  In  this  country, 
the  emphasis  of  conversation,  and  of  public 
opinion,  commends  the  practical  man  ;  and 
the  solid  portion  of  the  community  is  named 
with  significant  respect  in  every  circle.  Our 
people  are  of  Bonaparte's  opinion  concerning 
ideologists.  Ideas  are  subversive  of  social 
order  and  comfort,  and  at  last  make  a  fool  of 
the  possessor.  It  is  believed,  the  ordering  a 
cargo  of  goods  from  New  York  to  Smyrna  ; 
or,  the  running  up  and  down  to  procure  a 


**6  TRepresentative  dfcen 


company  of  subscribers  to  set  a-going  five  or 
ten  thousand  spindles  ;  or,  the  negotiations  of 
a  caucus,  and  the  practising  on  the  prejudices 
and  facility  ot.  country-people,  to  secure  their 
vc'jes  In.  November, — is  practical  and  com 
mendable. 

If  I  were  to  compare  action  of  a  much 
higher  strain  with  a  life  of  contemplation,  I 
should  not  venture  to  pronounce  with  much 
confidence  in  favor  of  the  former.  Mankind 
have  such  a  deep  stake  in  inward  illumination, 
that  there  is  much  to  be  said  by  the  hermit  or 
monk  in  defence  of  his  life  of  thought  and 
prayer.  A  certain  partiality,  a  headiuess,  and 
loss  of  balance,  is  the  tax  which  all  action 
roust  pay.  Act,  if  you  like, — but  you  do  it  at 
your  peril.  Men's  actions  are  too  strong  for 
them.  Show  me  a  man  who  has  acted,  and 
whr  has  not  been  the  victim  and  slave  of  his 
action.  What  they  have  done  commits  and 
enforces  them  to  do  the  same  again.  The  first 
act.  which  was  to  be  an  experiment,  becomes 
a  sacrament.  The  fiery  reformer  embodies  his 
aspiration  in  some  rite  or  covenant,  and  he 
and  his  friends  cleave  to  the  form,  and  lose 
the  aspiration.  The  Quaker  has  established 
Quakerism,  the  Shaker  has  established  his 
mcnastery  and  his  dance  ;  and,  although  each 
prates  of  spirit,  there  is  no  spirit,  but  repeti 
tion,  which  is  anti-spiritual.  But  where  are  his 
jwv  things  of  to-day  ?  In  actions  of  enthu- 
this  drawback  appears  :  but  in  those 


(Soetbe ;  or,  Gbe  THIlriter  247 

lower  activities,  which  have  no  higher  aim 
than  to  make  us  more  comfortable  and  more 
cowardly,  in  actions  of  cunning,  actions  that 
steal  and  lie,  actions  that  divorce  the  specu 
lative  from  the  practical  faculty,  and  put  a  ban 
on  reason  and  sentiment,  there  is  nothing  else 
but  drawback  and  negation.  The  Hindoos 
write  in  their  sacred  books,  "  Children  only, 
and  not  the  learned,  speak  of  the  speculative 
and  the  practical  faculties  as  two.  They  are 
but  one  for  both  obtain  the  selfsame  end,  and 
the  place  which  is  gained  by  the  followers  of 
the  one,  is  gained  by  the  followers  of  the  other. 
That  man  sjeeth,  who  seeth  that  the  specula 
tive  and  the  practical  doctrines  are  one." 
For  great  action  must  draw  on  the  spiritual 
nature.  The  measure  of  action  is  the  senti 
ment  from  which  it  proceeds.  The  greatest 
action  may  easily  be  one  of  the  most  private 
circumstances. 

This  disparagement  will  not  come  from  the 
leaders,  but  from  inferior  persons.  The  robust 
gentlemen  who  stand  at  the  head  of  the  prac 
tical  class,  share  the  ideas  of  the  time,  and 
have  too  much  sympathy  with  the  speculative 
class.  It  is  not  from  men  excellent  in  any 
kind,  that  disparagement  of  any  other  is  to  be 
looked  for.  With  such,  Talleyrand's  question 
is  ever  the  main  one  ;  not,  is  he  rich  ?  is  he 
committed  ?  is  he  well-meaning  ?  has  he  this 
or  that  faculty  ?  is  he  of  the  movement  ?  is  he 
of  the  establishment  ? — but,  Is  he  anybody  ? 


248  'Representative  Obcn 


does  he  stand  for  something  ?  He  must  be 
good  of  his  kind.  That  is  all  that  Talleyrand, 
all  that  State-street,  all  that  the  common  sense 
of  mankind  asks.  Be  real  and  admirable, 
not  as  we  know,  but  as  you  know.  Able  men 
do  not  care  in  what  kind  a  man  is  able,  so 
only  that  he  is  able.  A  master  likes  a  master, 
and  does  not  stipulate  whether  it  be  orator, 
artist,  craftsman,  or  king. 

Society  has  really  no  graver  interest  than 
the  well-being  of  the  literary  class.  And  it  is 
not  to  be  denied  that  men  are  cordial  in  their 
recognition  and  welcome  of  intellectual  accom 
plishments.  Still  the  writer  does  not  stand  with 
us  on  any  commanding  ground.  I  think  this 
to  be  his  own  fault.  A  pound  passes  for  a 
pound.  There  have  been  times  when  he  was 
a  sacred  person ;  he  wrote  Bibles  ;  the  first 
hymns ;  the  codes ;  the  epics  ;  tragic  songs  ; 
Sibylline  verses  ;  Chaldean  oracles  ;  Laconian 
sentences,  inscribed  on  temple  walls.  Every 
word  was  true,  and  woke  the  nations  to  new 
life.  He  wrote  without  levity,  and  without 
choice.  Every  word  was  carved  before  his 
eyes,  into  the  earth  and  sky  ;  and  the  sun  and 
stars  were  only  letters  of  the  same  purport ;  and 
of  no  more  necessity.  But  how  can  he  be 
honored,  when  he  does  not  honor  himself; 
when  he  loses  himself  in  the  crowd  ;  when  he 
is  no  longer  the  lawgiver,  but  the  sycophant, 
ducking  to  the  giddy  opinion  of  a  reckless 
public ;  when  he  must  sustain  with  shameless 


CJoetbe }  or,  tTbe  Wrftet  249 

advocacy  some  bad  government,  or  must  bark, 
all  the  year  round,  in  opposition  ;  or  write  con* 
ventional  criticism,  or  profligate  novels ;  or, 
at  any  rate,  write  without  thought,  and  without 
recurrence,  by  day  and  by  night,  to  the  sources 
of  inspiration  ? 

Some  reply  to  these  questions  may  be 
furnished  by  looking  over  the  list  of  men  of 
literary  genius  in  our  age.  Among  these,  no 
more  instructive  name  occurs  than  that  of 
Goethe,  to  represent  the  power  and  duties  of 
the  scholar  or  writer. 

I  described  Bonaparte  as  a  representative 
of  the  popular  e?t  rnal  life  and  aims  of  the 
nineteenth  century  Its  other  half,  its  poet,  is 
Goethe,  a  man  quut  domesticated  in  the  cent 
ury,  breathing  its  air,  enjoying  its  fruits,  im 
possible  at  any  earlier  time,  and  taking  away, 
by  his  colossal  parts,  the  reproach  of  weak 
ness,  which,  but  for  him,  would  lie  on  the 
intellectual  works  of  the  period.  He  appears 
at  a  time  when  a  general  culture  has  spread 
itself,  and  has  smoothed  down  all  sharp  indi 
vidual  traits  ;  when,  in  the  absence  of  heroic  • 
characters,  a  social  comfort  and  cooperation 
have  come  in.  There  is  no  poet,  but  scores 
of  poetic  writers ;  no  Columbus,  but  hundreds 
of  post-captains,  with  transit-telescope,  barom 
eter,  and  concentrated  soup  and  pemmican; 
no  Demosthenes,  no  Chatham,  but  any  num 
ber  of  clever  parliamentary  and  forensic 
debaters  ;  no  prophet  or  saint,  but  colleges  of 


"Representative  /fccn 


divinity ;  no  learned  man,  but  learned  soci* 
eties.  a  cheap  press,  reading-rooms,  and  book* 
clubs,  without  number.  There  was  never  such 
a  miscellany  of  facts.  The  world  extends  it 
self  like  American  trade.  We  conceive  Greek 
or  Roman  life, — life  in  the  middle  ages, — to 
be  a  simple  and  comprehensible  affair ;  but 
modern  life  to  respect  a  multitude  of  things, 
which  is  distracting. 

Goethe  was  the  philosopher  of  this  multi 
plicity  ;  hundred-handed,  Argus-eyed,  able  and 
happy  to  cope  with  this  rolling  miscellany  of 
facts  and  sciences,  and,  by  his  own  versatility, 
to  dispose  of  them  with  ease  ;  a  manly  mind, 
unembarrassed  by  the  variety  of  coats  of  con 
vention  with  which  life  had  got  encrusted, 
easily  able  by  his  subtlety  to  pierce  these,  and 
to  draw  his  strength  from  nature,  with  which 
he  lived  in  full  communion.  What  is  strange, 
too,  he  lived  in  a  small  town,  in  a  petty  state, 
in  a  defeated  state,  and  in  a  time  when  Ger 
many  played  no  such  leading  part  in  the 
world's  affairs  as  to  swell  the  bosom  of  her  sons 
with  any  metropolitan  pride,  such  as  n.ight 
have  cheered  a  French,  or  English,  or,  once,  a 
Roman  or  Attic  genius.  Yet  there  is  no  trace 
of  provincial  limitation  in  his  muse.  He  is 
not  a  debtor  to  his  position,  but  was  born 
with  a  free  and  controlling  genius. 

The  Helena,  or  the  second  part  of  Faust,  is  a 
philosophy  of  literature  set  in  poetry ;  the  work 
of  one  who  found  himself  the  master  of  his- 


<5oetbe;  or,  ZTbc  Writer  251 


tories,  mythologies,  philosophies,  sciences,  and 
national  literatures,  in  the  encyclopaedical 
manner  in  which  modern  erudition,  with  its 
international  intercourse  of  the  whole  earth's 
population,  researches  into  Indian,  Etruscan, 
and  all  Cyclopaean  arts,  geology,  chemistry, 
astronomy;  and  every  one  of  these  kingdoms 
assuming  a  certain  aerial  and  poetic  character, 
by  reason  of  the  multitude.  One  looks  at  a 
king  with  reverence  ;  but  if  one  should  chance 
to  be  at  a  congress  of  kings,  the  eye  would 
take  liberties  with  the  peculiarities  of  each. 
These  are  not  wild  miraculous  songs,  but 
elaborate  forms,  to  which  the  poet  has  con 
fided  the  results  of  eighty  years  of  observation. 
This  reflective  and  critical  wisdom  makes  the 
poem  more  truly  the  flower  of  this  time.  It 
dates  itself.  Still  he  is  a  poet, — poet  of  a 
prouder  laurel  than  any  contemporary,  and, 
under  this  plague  of  microscopes  (for  he  seems 
to  see  out  of  every  pore  of  his  skin),  strikes 
the  harp  with  a  hero's  strength  and  grace. 

The  wonder  of  the  book  is  its  superior  in 
telligence.  In  the  menstruum  of  this  man's 
wit,  the  past  and  the  present  ages,  and  their 
religions,  politics,  and  modes  of  thinking,  are 
dissolved  into  archetypes  and  ideas.  What 
new  mythologies  sail  through  his  head  !  The 
Greeks  said,  that  Alexander  went  as  far  as 
Chaos ;  Goethe  went,  only  the  other  day,  as 
far; -and  one  step  farther  he  hazarded,  and 
brought  himself  safe  back. 


"Representative 


There  is  a  heart-cheering  freedom  in  his 
speculation.  The  immense  horizon  which 
journeys  with  us  lends  its  majesties  to  trifles, 
and  to  matters  of  convenience  and  necessity, 
as  to  solemn  and  festal  performances.  He  was 
the  soul  of  his  century.  If  that  was  learned, 
and  had  become,  by  population,  compact 
organization,  and  drill  of  parts,  one  great 
Exploring  Expedition,  accumulating  a  glut  of 
facts  and  fruits  too  fast  for  any  hitherto-existing 
savants  to  classify,  this  man's  mind  had  ample 
chambers  for  the  distribution  of  all.  He  had 
a  power  to  unite  the  detached  atoms  again  by 
their  own  law.  He  has  clothed  our  modern 
existence  with  poetry.  Amid  littleness  and 
detail,  he  detected  the  Genius  of  life,  the  old 
cunning  Proteus,  nestling  close  beside  us, 
and  showed  that  the  dulness  and  prose  we 
ascribe  to  the  age  was  only  another  of  his 
masks : — 

"His  very  flight  is  presence  in  disguise: 

that  he  had  put  off  a  gay  uniform  for  a  fatigue 
dress,  and  was  not  a  whit  less  vivacious  or 
rich  in  Liverpool  or  the  Hague,  than  once  in 
Rome  or  Antioch.  He  sought  him  in  public 
squares  and  main  streets,  in  boulevards  and 
hotels  ;  and,  in  the  solidest  kingdom  of  routine 
and  the  senses,  he  showed  the  lurking  daemonic 
power  ;  that,  in  actions  of  routine,  a  thread 
of  mythology  and  fable  spins  itself ;  and  this, 


©oetbe ;  or,  Gbe  Writer  253 


by  tracing  the  pedigree  of  every  usage  and 
practice,  every  institution,  utensil,  and  means, 
home  to  its  origin  in  the  structure  of  man. 
He  had  an  extreme  impatience  of  conjecture 
and  of  rhetoric.  "  I  have  guesses  enough  of 
my  own  ;  if  a  man  write  a  book,  let  him 
set  down  only  what  he  knows."  He  writes  in 
the  plainest  and  lowest  tone,  omitting  a  great 
deal  more  than  he  writes,  and  putting  ever 
a  thing  for  a  word.  He  has  explained  the 
distinction  between  the  antique  and  the 
modern  spirit  and  art.  He  has  defined  art, 
its  scope  and  laws.  He  has  said  the  best 
things  about  nature  that  ever  were  said.  He 
treats  nature  as  the  old  philosophers,  as  the 
seven  wise  masters  did, — and,  with  whatever 
loss  of  French  tabulation  and  dissection,  poetry 
and  humanity  remain  to  us  ;  and  they  have 
some  doctoral  skill.  Eyes  are  better,  on  the 
whole,  than  telescopes  or  microscopes.  He 
has  contributed  a  key  to  many  parts  of  nature, 
through  the  rare  turn  for  unity  and  simplicity 
in  his  mind.  Thus  Goethe  suggested  the 
leading  idea  of  modern  botany,  that  a  leaf,  or 
the  eye  of  a  leaf,  is  the  unit  of  botany,  and 
that  every  part  of  the  plant  is  only  a  trans 
formed  leaf  to  meet  a  new  condition  ;  and,  by 
varying  the  conditions,  a  leaf  may  be  convert 
ed  into  any  other  organ,  and  any  other  organ 
into  a  leaf.  In  like  manner,  in  osteology,  he 
assumed  that  one  vertebra  of  the  spine  might 
be  considered  the  unit  of  the  skeleton ;  the 


254  'Representative  flben 


head  was  only  the  uppermost  vertebra  trans 
formed.  "  The  plant  goes  from  knot  to  knot, 
closing,  at  last,  with  the  flower  and  the  seed. 
So  the  tape-worm,  the  caterpillar,  goes  from 
knot  to  knot,  and  closes  with  the  head.  Men 
and  the  higher  animals  are  built  up  through 
the  vertebrae,  the  powers  being  concentrated 
in  the  head."  In  optics,  again,  he  rejected 
the  artificial  theory  of  seven  colors,  and  con 
sidered  that  every  color  was  the  mixture  of 
light  and  darkness  in  new  proportions.  It  is 
really  of  very  little  consequence  what  topic  he 
v/rites  upon.  He  sees  at  every  pore,  and  has 
a  certain  gravitation  towards  truth.  He  will 
realize  what  you  say.  He  hates  to  be  trifled 
with,  and  to  be  made  to  say  over  again  some 
old  wife's  fable,  that  has  had  possession  of 
men's  faith  these  thousand  years.  He  may  as 
well  see  if  it  is  true  as  another.  He  sifts  it. 
I  am  here,  he  would  say,  to  be  the  measure 
and  judge  of  these  things.  Why  should  I 
take  them  on  trust  ?  And,  therefore,  what 
he  says  of  religion,  of  passion,  of  marriage, 
of  manners,  property,  of  paper  money,  of 
periods  of  beliefs,  of  omens,  of  luck,  or  what 
ever  else,  refuses  to  be  forgotten. 

Take  the  most  remarkable  example  that 
could  occur  of  this  tendency  to  verify  every 
term  in  popular  use.  The  Devil  had  played 
an  important  part  in  mythology  in  all  times. 
Goethe  would  have  no  word  that  does  not 
cover  a  thing.  The  same  measure  will  still 


<5oetbe ;  or,  Cbe  TKHrtter  255 


serve :  "  I  have  never  heard  of  any  crime 
•which  I  might  not  have  committed."  So  he 
flies  at  the  throat  of  this  imp.  He  shall  be 
real ;  he  shall  be  modern ;  he  shall  be  Euro 
pean  ;  he  shall  dress  like  a  gentleman,  and 
accept  the  manner,  and  walk  in  the  streets, 
and  be  well  initiated  in  the  life  of  Vienna,  and 
of  Heidelberg,  in  1820, — or  he  shall  not  exist. 
Accordingly,  he  stripped  him  of  mythologic 
gear,  of  horns,  cloven  foot,  harpoon  tail, 
brimstone,  and  blue-fire,  and,  instead  of  look 
ing  in  books  and  pictures,  looked  for  him  in 
his  own  mind,  in  every  shade  of  coldness, 
selfishness,  and  unbelief  that,  in  crowds,  or 
In  solitude,  darkens  over  the  human  thought, — 
and  found  that  the  portrait  gained  reality  and 
terror  by  everything  he  added,  and  by  every 
thing  he  took  away.  He  found  that  the  essence 
of  this  hobgoblin,  which  had  hovered  in  shadow 
about  the  habitations  of  men,  ever  since  they 
\vere  men,  was  pure  intellect,  applied, — as 
always  there  is  a  tendency, — to  the  service  of 
the  senses  :  and  he  flung  into  literature,  in  his 
Mephistopheles,  the  first  organic  figure  that 
has  been  added  for  some  ages,  and  which  will 
remain  as  long  as  the  Prometheus. 

I  have  no  design  to  enter  into  any  analysis 
of  his  numerous  works.  They  consist  of 
translations,  criticism,  dramas,  lyric  and  every 
other  description  of  poems,  literary  journals, 
and  portraits  of  distinguished  men.  Yet  I  can 
not  omit  to  specify  the  Wilhelm  Meister. 


256  "Representative  dfcen 


Wilhelm  Meister  is  a  novel  in  every  sense, 
the  first  of  its  kind,  called  by  its  admirers  the 
only  delineation  of  modern  society, — as  if 
other  novels,  those  of  Scott,  for  example,  dealt 
with  costume  and  condition,  this  with  the  spirit 
of  life.  It  is  a  book  over  which  some  veil  is 
still  drawn.  It  is  read  by  very  intelligent 
persons  with  wonder  and  delight.  It  is  pre 
ferred  by  some  such  to  Hamlet,  as  a  work  of 
genius.  I  suppose  no  book  of  this  century 
can  compare  with  it  in  its  delicious  sweetness^ 
so  new,  so  provoking  to  the  mind,  gratifying  it 
with  so  many  and  so  solid  thoughts,  just  in 
sights  into  life,  and  manners,  and  characters  z 
so  many  good  hints  for  the  conduct  of  life,  so 
many  unexpected  glimpses  into  a  higher  sphere,, 
and  never  a  trace  of  rhetoric  or  dulness.  A 
very  provoking  book  to  the  curiosity  of  youngj 
men  of  genius,  but  a  very  unsatisfactory  one_ 
Lovers  of  light  reading,  those  who  look  in  it 
for  the  entertainment  they  find  in  a  romancer 
are  disappointed.  On  the  other  hand,  those 
who  begin  it  with  the  higher  hope  to  read  in  it 
a  worthy  history  of  genius,  and  the  just  award 
of  the  laurel  to  its  toils  and  denials,  have  also 
reason  to  complain.  We  had  an  English 
romance  here,  not  long  ago,  professing  to  em 
body  the  hope  of  a  new  age,  and  to  unfold  the 
political  hope  of  the  party  called  "Young; 
England,"  in  which  the  only  reward  of  virtue 
is  a  seat  in  parliament,  and  a  peerage.  Goethe's 
romance  has  a  conclusion  as  lame  and  immoral 


(5oetbe ;  or,  tlbe  TUJlritet  257 

George  Sand,  in  Consuelo  and  its  continuation, 
has  sketched  a  truer  and  more  dignified  picture. 
In  the  progress  of  the  story,  the  characters  of 
the  hero  and  heroine  expand  at  a  rate  that 
shivers  the  porcelain  chess-table  of  aristocratic 
convention  :  they  quit  the  society  and  habits 
of  their  rank ;  they  lose  their  wealth  ;  they 
become  the  servants  of  great  ideas,  and  of  the 
most  generous  social  ends  ;  until,  at  last,  the 
hero,  who  is  the  centre  and  fountain  of  an 
association  for  the  rendering  of  the  noblest  ben 
efits  to  the  human  race,  no  longer  answers  to  his 
own  titled  lame  :  it  sounds  foreign  and  remote 
in  his  ear. 

"  I  am  only  man,"  he  says ;  "  I  breathe  and 
work  for  man,"  and  this  in  poverty  and  extreme 
sacrifices.  Goethe's  hero,  on  the  contrary, 
has  so  many  weaknesses  and  impurities,  and 
keeps  such  bad  company,  that  the  sober 
English  public,  when  the  book  was  translated, 
were  disgusted.  And  yet  it  is  so  crammed 
with  wisdom,  with  knowledge  of  the  world,  and 
with  knowledge  of  laws  ;  the  persons  so  truly 
and  subtly  drawn,  and  with  such  few  strokes, 
and  not  a  word  too  much,  the  book  remains 
ever  so  new  and  unexhausted,  that  we  must 
even  )et  it  go  its  way,  and  be  willing  to  get 
what  good  from  it  we  can,  assured  that  it  has 
only  begun  its  office,  and  has  millions  of  readers 
yet  to  serve. 

The  argument  is  the  passage  of  a  democrat 
to  the  aristocracy,  using  both  words  in  their 


"(Representative 


best  sense.  And  this  passage  is  not  made  in 
any  mean  or  creeping  way,  but  through  the 
hall  door.  Nature  and  character  assist,  and 
the  rank  is  made  real  by  sense  and  probity  in 
the  nobles.  No  generous  youth  can  escape 
this  charm  of  reality  in  the  book,  so  that  it  is 
highly  stimulating  to  intellect  and  courage. 

The  ardent  and  holy  Novalis  characterized 
the  book  as  "  thoroughly  modern  and  prosaic ; 
the  romantic  is  completely  levelled  in  it ;  so  is 
the  poetry  of  nature  ;  the  wonderful.  The 
book  treats  only  of  the  ordinary  affairs  of 
men  :  it  is  a  poeticized  civic  and  domestic 
story.  The  wonderful  in  it  is  expressly  treated 
as  fiction  and  enthusiastic  dreaming  :  " — and 
yet.  what  is  also  characteristic,  Novalis  soon 
returned  to  this  book,  and  it  remained  his 
favorite  reading  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

What  distinguishes  Goethe  for  French  and 
English  readers,  is  a  property  which  he  shares 
with  his  nation, — a  habitual  reference  to  in 
terior  truth.  In  England  and  in  America, 
there  is  a  respect  for  talent ;  and,  if  it  is  exerted 
in  support  of  any  ascertained  or  intelligible 
interest  or  party,  or  in  regular  opposition  to 
any,  the  public  is  satisfied.  In  France,  there 
is  even  a  greater  delight  in  intellectual  brill 
iancy,  for  its  own  sake.  And,  in  all  these  coun 
tries,  men  of  talent  write  from  talent.  It  is 
enough  if  the  understanding  is  occupied,  the 
taste  propitiated, — so  many  columns  so  many 
hours,  filled  in  a  lively  and  creditable  way. 


(Soetbe  j  or,  Sbe  Writer          259 

The  German  intellect  wants  the  French  spright- 
liness,  the  fine  practical  understanding  of  the 
English,  and  the  American  adventure ;  but  it 
has  a  certain  probity,  which  never  rests  in  a 
superficial  performance,  but  asks  steadily,  To 
what  end  ?  A  German  public  asks  for  a  con 
trolling  sincerity.  Here  is  activity  of  thought ; 
but  what  is  it  for  ?  What  does  the  man  mean  ? 
Whence,  whence,  all  these  thoughts  ? 

Talent  alone  cannot  make  a  writer.  There 
must  be  a  man  behind  the  book ;  a  personality 
which,  by  birth  and  quality,  is  pledged  to  the 
doctrines  there  set  forth,  and  which  exists  to 
see  and  state  things  so,  and  not  otherwise ; 
holding  things  because  they  are  things.  If 
he  cannot  rightly  express  himself  to-day,  the 
same  things  subsist,  and  will  open  themselves 
to-morrow.  There  lies  the  burden  on  his  mind, 
— the  burden  of  truth  to  be  declared, — more 
or  less  understood ;  and  it  constitutes  his  busi 
ness  and  calling  in  the  world,  to  see  those  facts 
through,  and  to  make  them  known.  What 
signifies  that  he  trips  and  stammers ;  that  his 
voice  is  harsh  or  hissing  ;  that  his  method  or 
his  tropes  are  inadequate  ?  That  message  will 
find  method  and  imagery,  articulation  and 
melody.  Though  he  were  dumb,  it  would 
speak.  If  not, — if  there  be  no  such  God's 
word  in  the  man, — what  care  we  how  adroit, 
how  fluent,  how  brilliant  he  is  ? 

It  makes  a  great  difference  to  the  force  of 
any  sentence,  whether  there  be  a  man  behind 


Representative  Oben 


it,  or  no.  In  the  learned  journal,  in  the  influ 
ential  newspaper,  I  discern  no  form ;  only  some 
irresponsible  shadow ;  oftener  some  monied 
corporation,  or  some  dangler,  who  hopes,  in 
the  mask  and  robes  of  his  paragraph,  to  pass 
for  somebody.  But,  through  every  clause  and 
part  of  speech  of  a  right  book,  I  meet  the  eyes 
of  the  most  determined  of  men  :  his  force  and 
terror  inundate  every  word  :  the  commas  and 
dashes  are  alive ;  so  that  the  writing  is  athletic 
and  nimble, — can  go  far  and  live  long. 

In  England  and  America,  one  may  be  an 
adept  in  the  writing  of  a  Greek  or  Latin  poet, 
without  any  poetic  taste  or  fire.  That  a  man 
has  spent  years  on  Plato  and  Proclus,  does 
not  afford  a  presumption  that  he  holds  heroic 
opinions,  or  undervalues  the  fashions  of  his 
town.  But  the  German  nation  have  the  most 
ridiculous  good  faith  on  these  subjects :  the 
student,  out  of  the  lecture-room,  still  broods 
on  the  lessons ;  and  the  professor  cannot  di 
vest  himself  of  the  fancy,  that  the  truths  of 
philosophy  have  some  application  to  Berlin 
and  Munich.  This  earnestness  enables  them 
to  out-see  men  of  much  more  talent.  Hence,  al 
most  all  the  valuable  distinctions  which  are  cur 
rent  in  higher  conversation,  have  been  derived 
to  us  from  Germany.  But,  whilst  men  distin 
guished  for  wit  and  learning,  in  England  and 
France,  adopt  their  study  and  their  side  with 
a  certain  levity,  and  are  not  understood  to  be 
1rery  deeply  engaged,  from  grounds  of  charao 


<3oetbe ;  or,  Cbe  rariter  261 


ter,  to  the  topic  or  the  part  they  espouse, — • 
Goethe,  the  head  and  body  of  the  German 
nation,  do  •  not  speak  from  talent,  but  the 
truth  shines  through  :  he  is  very  wise,  though 
his  talent  often  veils  his  wisdom.  However 
excellent  his  sentence  is,  he  has  somewhat 
better  in  view.  It  awakens  my  curiosity.  He 
has  the  formidable  independence  which  con 
verse  with  truth  gives  :  hear  you,  or  forbear, 
his  fact  abides  ;  and  your  interest  in  the  writer 
is  not  confined  to  his  story,  and  he  dismissed 
from  memory,  when  he  has  performed  his  task 
creditably,  as  a  baker  when  he  has  left  his 
loaf  ;  but  his  work  is  the  least  part  of  him. 
The  old  Eternal  Genius  who  built  the  world 
has  confided  himself  more  to  this  man  than  to 
any  other.  I  dare  not  say  that  Goethe  as 
cended  to  the  highest  grounds  from  which 
genius  has  spoken.  He  has  not  worshipped 
the  highest  unity  ;  he  is  incapable  of  a  self- 
surrender  to  the  moral  sentiment.  There  are 
nobler  strains  in  poetry  than  any  he  has 
sounded.  There  are  writers  poorer  in  talent, 
whose  tone  is  purer,  and  more  touches  the 
heart.  Goethe  can  never  be  dear  to  men. 
His  is  not  even  the  devotion  to  pure  truth  ; 
but  to  truth  for  the  sake  of  culture.  He  has 
no  aims  less  large  than  the  conquest  of 
universal  nature,  of  universal  truth,  to  be  his 
portion  ;  a  man  not  to  be  bribed,  nor  deceived, 
nor  overawed ;  of  a  stoical  self-command  and 
self-denial,  and  having  one  test  for  all  men,— 


262  TRepresent-avG  iRen 


What  can  you  teach  me?  All  possessions  are 
valued  by  him  for  that  only  ;  rank,  privileges, 
health,  time,  being  itself. 

He  is  the  type  of  culture,  the  amateur  of 
all  arts,  and  sciences,  and  events  ;  artistic,  but 
not  artist ;  spiritual,  but  not  spiritualist.  There 
is  nothing  he  had  not  right  to  know  ;  there  is 
no  weapon  in  the  army  of  universal  genius  he 
did  not  take  into  his  hand,  but  with  peremptory 
heed  that  he  should  not  be  for  a  moment 
prejudiced  by  his  instruments.  He  lays  a  ray 
of  light  under  every  fact,  and  between  himself 
and  his  dearest  property.  From  him  nothing 
was  hid,  nothing  withholden.  The  lurking 
daemons  sat  to  him,  and  the  saint  who  saw  the 
daemons  ;  and  the  metaphysical  elements  took 
form.  "  Piety  itself  is  no  aim,  but  only  a 
means  whereby,  through  purest  inward  peace, 
we  may  attain  to  highest  culture."  And  his 
penetration  of  every  secret  of  the  fine  arts  will 
make  Goethe  still  more  statuesque.  His  af 
fections  help  him,  like  women  employed  by 
Cicero  to  worm  out  the  secret  of  conspirators. 
Enmities  he  has  none.  Enemy  of  him  you 
may  be, — if  so  you  shall  teach  him  aught 
which  your  good-will  cannot, — were  it  only 
what  experience  will  accrue  from  your  ruin. 
Enemy  and  welcome,  but  enemy  on  high  terms. 
He  cannot  hate  anybody  ;  his  time  is  worth 
too  much.  Temperamental  antagonisms  may 
be  suffered,  but  like  feuds  of  emperors,  who 
fight  dignifiedly  across  kingdoms. 


Goetbe;  or,  tTbe  TOlritOT  263 


His  autobiography,  under  the  title  of  "  Poetry 
and  Truth  Out  of  My  Life,"  is  the  expression 
of  the  idea, — now  familiar  to  the  world  through 
the  German  mind,  but  a  novelty  to  England, 
Old  and  New,  when  that  book  appeared, — 
that  a  man  exists  for  culture  ;  not  for  what  he 
can  accomplish,  but  for  what  can  be  accom 
plished  in  him.  The  reaction  of  things  on  the 
man  is  the  only  noteworthy  result.  An  in 
tellectual  man  can  see  himself  as  a  third  per 
son  ;  therefore  his  faults  and  delusions  interest 
him  equally  with  his  successes.  Though  he 
wishes  to  prosper  in  affairs,  he  wishes  more  to 
know  the  history  and  destiny  of  man  ;  whilst 
the  clouds  of  egotists  drifting  about  him  are 
only  interested  in  a  low  success. 

This  idea  reigns  in  the  Dichtung  und  Wahr- 
heit,  and  directs  the  selection  of  the  incidents; 
and  nowise  the  external  importance  of  events, 
the  rank  of  the  personages,  or  the  bulk  of  in 
comes.  Of  course,  the  book  affords  slender 
materials  for  what  would  be  reckoned  with  us 
a  "  Life  of  Goethe  ;  " — few  dates ;  no  corre 
spondence  ;  no  details  of  offices  or  employ 
ments  ;  no  light  on  his  marriage  ;  and,  a  period 
of  ten  years,  that  should  be  the  most  active  in 
his  life,  after  his  settlement  at  Weimar,  is  sunk 
in  silence.  Meantime,  certain  love-affairs, 
that  came  to  nothing,  as  people  say,  have  the 
strangest  importance  :  he  crowds  us  with  de 
tail  : — certain  whimsical  opinions,  cosmogonies, 
and  religions  of  his  own  invention,  and,  es- 


264  TRepr-csentatfve 


pecially  his  relations  to  remarkable  minds, 
and  to  critical  epochs  of  thought  : — these  he 
magnifies.  His  "  Daily  and  Yearly  Journal," 
his  "  Italian  Travels,"  his  "  Campaign  in 
France,"  and  the  historical  part  of  his 
"  Theory  of  Colors,"  have  the  same  interest. 
In  the  last,  he  rapidly  notices  Kepler,  Roger 
Bacon,  Galileo,  Newton,  Voltaire,  etc.;  and 
the  charm  of  this  portion  of  the  book  consists 
in  the  simplest  statement  of  the  relation  betwixt 
these  grandees  of  European  scientific  history 
and  himself ;  the  mere  drawing  of  the  lines 
from  Goethe  to  Kepler,  from  Goethe  to  Bacon, 
from  Goethe  to  Newton.  The  drawing  of  the 
line  is  for  the  time  and  person,  a  solution  of 
the  formidable  problem,  and  gives  pleasure 
when  Iphigenia  and  Faust  do  not,  without  any 
cost  of  invention  comparable  to  that  of  Iphi 
genia  and  Faust. 

This  lawgiver  of  art  is  not  an  artist.  Was  it 
that  he  knew  too  much,  that  his  sight  was  micro 
scopic,  and  interfered  with  the  just  perspec 
tive,  the  seeing  of  the  whole  ?  He  is  fragment 
ary  ;  a  writer  of  occasional  poems,  and  of  an 
encyclopaedia  of  sentences.  When  he  sits 
down  to  write  a  drama  or  a  tale,  he  collects 
and  sorts  his  observations  from  a  hundred 
sides,  and  combines  them  into  the  body  as 
fitly  as  he  can.  A  great  deal  refuses  to  in 
corporate  :  this  he  adds  loosely,  as  letters  of 
the  parties,  leaves  from  their  journals,  or  the 
like.  A  great  deal  still  is  left  that  will  not 


<3oetbe ;  or,  Gbe  mriter  265 

find  any  place.  This  the  bookbinder  alone 
can  give  any  cohesion  to :  and,  hence,  not 
withstanding  the  looseness  of  many  of  his 
works,  we  have  volumes  of  detached  para 
graphs,  aphorisms,  xenien,  etc. 

I  suppose  the  worldly  tone  of  his  tales  grew 
out  of  the  calculations  of  self-culture.  It  was 
the  infirmity  of  an  admirable  scholar,  who 
loved  the  world  out  of  gratitude ;  who  knew 
where  libraries,  galleries,  architecture,  labora 
tories,  savants,  and  leisure,  were  to  be  had,  and 
who  did  not  quite  trust  the  compensations 
of  poverty  and  nakedness.  Socrates  loved 
Athens  ;  Montaigne,  Paris ;  and  Madame  de 
Stael  said,  she  was  only  vulnerable  on  that 
Siue  (namely,  of  Paris).  It  has  its  favorable 
aspect.  All  the  geniuses  are  usually  so  ill- 
assorted  and  sickly,  that  one  is  ever  wishing 
them  somewhere  else.  We  seldom  see  any 
body  who  is  not  uneasy  or  afraid  to  live. 
There  is  a  slight  blush  of  shame  on  the  cheek 
of  good  men  and  aspiring  men,  and  a  spice  of 
caricature.  But  this  man  was  entirely  at 
home  and  happy  in  his  century  and  the  world. 
None  was  so  fit  to  live,  or  more  heartily  enjoyed 
the  game.  In  this  aim  of  culture,  which  is 
the  genius  of  his  works,  is  their  power.  The 
idea  of  absolute,  eternal  truth,  without  refer 
ence  to  my  own  enlargement  by  it,  is  higher. 
The  surrender  to  the  torrent,  of  poetic  inspira 
tion  is  higher  ;  but  compared  with  any  motives 
on  which  books  are  written  in  England  and 


266  "Representative 


America,  this  is  very  truth,  and  has  the  power 
to  inspire  which  belongs  to  truth.  Thus  has 
he  brought  back  to  a  book  some  of  its  ancient 
might  and  dignity. 

Goethe,  coming  into  an  over-civilized  time 
and  country,  when  original  talent  was  oppressed 
under  the  load  of  books,  and  mechanical 
auxiliaries,  and  the  distracting  variety  of  claims, 
taught  men  how  to  dispose  of  this  mountainous 
miscellany,  and  make  it  subservient.  I  join 
Napoleon  with  him,  as  being  both  representa 
tives  of  the  impatience,  and  reaction  of  nature 
against  the  morgue  or  conventions, — two  stern 
realists,  who,  with  thek  -scnolars,  have  severally 
setfthe  axe  at  the  root  of  the  tree  of  cant  and 
seeming,  for  this  time,  and  for  all  time.  This 
cheerful  laborer,  with  no  external  popularity  or 
provocation,  drawing  his  motive  and  his  plan 
from  his  own  breast,  tasked  himself  with  stints 
for  a  giant,  and,  without  relaxation  or  rest, 
except  by  alternating  his  pursuits,  worked  on 
for  eighty  years  with  the  steadiness  of  his  first 
2e  al. 

It  is  the  last  lesson  of  modern  science,  that 
the  highest  simplicity  of  structure  is  produced, 
not  by  few  elements,  but  by  the  highest  com 
plexity.  Man  is  the  most  composite  of  all 
creatures:  the  wheel-insect,  volvox  globator, 
is  at  the  other  extreme.  We  shall  learn  to 
draw  rents  and  revenues  from  the  immense 
patrimony  of  the  old  and  recent  ages.  Goethe 
teaches  courage,  and  the  equivalence  of  all 


Ooetbe ;  or,  Gbe  Writer  267 


times :  that  the  disadvantages  of  any  epoch 
exist  only  to  the  faint-hearted.  Genius  hovers 
with  his  sunshine  and  music  close  by  the 
darkest  and  deafest  eras.  No  mortgage,  no 
attainder,  will  hold  on  men  or  hours.  The 
world  is  young  ;  the  former  great  men  call  to 
us  affectionately.  We  too  must  write  Bibles, 
to  unite  again  the  heavens  and  the  earthly 
world.  The  secret  of  genius  is  to  suffer  no 
fiction  to  exist  for  us  ;  to  realize  all  that  we 
know ;  in  the  high  refinement  of  modern  life, 
in  arts,  in  sciences,  in  books,  in  men,  to  exact 
good  faith,  reality,  and  a  purpose ;  and  first, 
last,  midst,  and  without  end,  to  honor  every 
truth  by  use. 

TUB  END. 


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